2nd CO; 

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LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 

Chap.. Copyright No. 

Shelf. A.M3 r 7 



UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 



THE 



SCHOOLMASTER 



AND 



OTHER POEMS 



BY 
J. W. CASTELLE. 




Copyrighted 1898 by John W. Casteixe. 



•7) ?n S^ 



TO THE READER. 



Like a frail bark on a stormy sea, 
I'll launch this craft without a hope 

That on any shore a friend may be 
To cast to it a hawser rope. 

And moor it safely on welcome shores, 
Where verse like this may find a home 

Among the manifold mystic lores, 
Which over every nation roam. 

But reader, when you 've read this book, 
From the beginning to the end, 

If it pleases* you, I know you'll brook 
The author on your list of friends. 






THE SCHOOLMASTER. 

Tis twenty years ago to-day, 

Since father sank to rest ; 
He laid aside his pilgrim's staff 

To join the heavenly blest. 

But hew methinks upon the time 

Before we laid him low, 
How anxiously his days were spent 

To gain a golden glow. 

Society he left behind, 

Some forty years gone by ; 
And wandered with the pioneers 

To seek the Illini. 

He built beside that rippling stream 

His lowly trapper's cot, 
And added to his acreage 

At every chance he got. 

The youthful glow soon left his face, 
His raven locks grew grey ; 

Though ne'er a thought he gave to self 
But labored on alway. 

He was also very anxious 
That we should write and spell, 

And read the papers every week, 
And cipher too f as well. 



The Schoolmaster and Other Poems. 

We 'tended the old log school house 

With other girls and boys, 
'Till we could read and write and spell 

All names in Illinois. 

Then father started us on farms — 

A half a section each — 
Where we could practice what we learned, 

And also what we'd preach. 

Well, sister Bess got married to 

A school-boy of our time 
Whose sole ambition always was 

To put his thoughts in rhyme. 

He farmed it for several years 

Until he got a chance 
To rent his farm to other men 

For money in advance ; 

He straightway to the village went 

And bought a little store, 
Which he equipped with printing press, 

Paper and reading lore. 

He started a little weekly — 
At first we thought he'd fail — 

But ne'er a man did work so hard 
To weather stormy gales. 

Subscribers came but slow at first, 

And advertisers, too, 
But ere the second year had past 

His troubles were but few. 



The Schoolmaster and Other Poems. 5 

Of course he prospered every step 

In his newspaper life, 
Until at last we find him high 

With politicians rife. 

In congress he served his district, 

And is a bosom friend 
Of the highest sage in council, 

Where minor colors blend. 

Hal batched it for a year or two 

Before he took a bride, 
And now he has the finest place 

On all the country side; 

He never thinks of work at all, 

Although the work is done 
By those he employs to do it 

While he is " having fun." 

" Having fun, " well, that is what he says, 

While overseeing the work; 
And you may depend upon it 

There's nothing he will shirk. 

He's the first up every morning 

And last to bed at night; 
His face is like a sunbeam, 

His heart is always light. 

His neighbors call him very rich 

Because he lays away 
Much of the profits of his toil 

For help in future days. 



The Schoolmaster and Other Poems. 

He guards his buildings from decay 
With fresh paint every year: 

The verdant lawn before his house 
Is never brown and sear; 

His fences never show neglect 

But always stand in place; 
He leaves no windfall in his woods 

To curb his cattle's graze. 

He has a way for everything, 
If wrong he knows the cause; 

He's more inclined to hoard up wealth 
Than father ever was. 

So I, the last and youngest of 
My father's children three, 

Had just as good a chance in life 
As any chance could be. 

With stock and land at my command 

And money, too, to spare, 
I longed to be among the ones 

Which make spectators stare; 

I longed for an- education — 

The best society key — 
To make the doors I coveted 

To open wide to me. 

I'll tell you how it came about, 
And why I thought that way, 

If you'll only listen to me 
Until I have my say. 



The Schoolmaster and Other Poems. 

You know a boy at twenty years 

Is very apt to love, 
And if he is rejected then 

His mind begins to rove 

Among fancies' vast creations, 

To build a higher tower 
Than the one before whose spirit 

He was compelled to cower; 

Or else he gives up hope in life, 

And welcomes every breath 
That carries fever's lurid flames — 

The harbingers of death. 

You- see, I longed to wed a maid — 

A farmer's only child, 
Whose rustic manners charmed me, and 

Whose beauty made me wild. 

At first she smiled upon me, and 

Told me her little cares 
About excuses offered for 

Her apron's latest tears. 

A girl's troubles are very few 

While living in her teens; 
When she assumes a parent's care, 

She learns what trouble means. 

That fall, the school board hired a man 

For teacher in the school, 
Whose every act in daily life 

Was guided by a rule. 



The Schoolmaster and Other Poems, 

He was a few years my senior, 
Although not half as large; 

You'd think, to see him move about, 
He traveled free of charge; 

He felt at home in every house 
Wherein his course had led, 

And was first and last at tables 
Wherefrom he ate his bread. 

Of course he lived among us in 
The old style, " boarding round," 

Quite anxious for invitations 
Where festal boards were found. 

He conversed with the grandmammas 

About the days gone by, 
When his grandsires in Jersey state, 

Were ranked among the high, 

Beside the great George Washington 

In fighting for our cause; 
And when at last the case was won 

They helped to make the laws, 

Which we call the Constitution — 

The bulwark of the free ; 
And told wherein his grandsires 

Had failed to disagree 

With Jefferson of Virginia 

About a nation's bank, 
And also said if he were there, 

The people now would thank 



The Schoolmaster and Other Poems. 9 

The wise course he then pursued in 

Opposing such a plan; 
For now they see where Tom was wrong 

And he'd be just the man 

To reef the sails for coming storms, 

By peering through the years 
To the bare rock where Poverty 

Was pouring forth her tears. 

Of course he asked to be excused 

For his familiar " Tom " ; 
But that was not at all his fault , 

But of where he was from. 

His grandsires knew the sage so well, 

And then it was their style 
To shout "Hallo," to famous Tom, 

If off a half a mile. 

He knew it was unbecoming, 

And often would forget ; 
But his likeness to his grandsires 

Was running through him yet. 

I hated him when first we met , 

And do so even now , 
For his unruffled polished way, 

His gestures and his bow 

Always opened the way for him 

To tell his only story — 
Of how his grandsires climbed the hill 

With George and Tom to glory. 



10 The Schoolmaster and Other Poems. 

The grand dames talked of home made cloth, 

And of the spinning wheel, 
And wondered if those famous men 

Had ever learned to feel 

The true importance of the time, 
When women combed the wool, 

To make the soldier's raiment 
And his Sunday suit in full; 

Our mammas talked to him of schools 

And the good they had done; 
And compared the schools they then had 

With ones when they were young. 

They also compared the girls then 

With those who lived before 
In another generation, 

Some thirty years and more. 

They told how much the maids did then 

Of work in field and house, 
And how the maids of now complain 

About milking the cows. 

The teacher was at home with them; 

He understood their text, 
And often ventured helping words, 

When they became perplexed 

With a simple combination 

Of English words and names; 
He always said the word desired 

His grandsires did the same; 



The Schoolmaster and Other Poems. 11 

He conversed on every subject 
On which they wished to talk; 

He had studied all at college 
Or high school in New York. 

By the way he pleased the matrons 

And made the maidens smile, 
'Twas very plain that Cupid's dart 

Was with him all the while. 

The maids at every house he lived 

For his respective week, 
At the first mention of his name, 

Would show a blushing cheek. 

I feared the time when he should go 
And spend his week with Ann; 

For well I feared his smiling face 
Would make him just the man 

To win her simple childlike heart, 

Without a thought of me; 
And broken-hearted leave her then 

Another's misery. 

For every maid who loved and lost, 

Then weds another man; 
She makes her home a warlike fort — 

A hell on earth for him. 

I asked the little pedagogue 

To spend that week with me, 
Which by the custom of our place 

He'd spend with Anna Lee. 



/ 



12 The Schoolmaster and Other Poems. 

But he desired to meet the maid 

He heard so much about, 
And told me as a joke, he'd win 

Her heart ere he got out. 

I could have strangled him right there, 

And often wished I had; 
But mother's words came to my mind- 

The last she ever said; 

While she lay on her bed of death 
Before she breathed her last; 

She knew our little childish plans — 
The fondest hopes we cast. 

She cautioned us against anger — 

The cause of every crime — 
And made us promise ere she died, 

That we'd give plenty time 

In every case where anger roused 

Our carnal nature's ire; 
That a day at least should smoulder 

O'er passions burning fire. 

I gave the padagogue his day 

And then of course a week; 
But anger's change to jealousy 

Compelled me not to speak 

To him or any other one 

About my love for Ann; 
But here it moulders in my breast 

As when it first began. 



The Schoolmaster and Other Poems. 13 

On Sunday morn he left us for 
Ann's home among the birch; 

On Sunday night she had his arm 
When coming home from church. 

I followed them to Anna's gate, 

Staying far enough away r 
For darkness to hide me from them, 

Yet hearing what they'd say. 

He told her about his grandsires 

In Revolution's days; 
Of course, I knew he'd tell her that, 

But what did me amaze 

Was how willingly she told him all 

The secrets of her heart ; 
When I had known her all her life 

To seldom take a part 

In a rural conversation 

Where I was trying to lead 
Her away from ducks and turkeys 

To music's magic reed. 

Or in any other topic 

Wherein I led the way, 
She was always acquiescent 

With not a word to say. 

But the way she chattered to him, 

And told him not to tell 
The little secrets of her life 

With Kate, or Bess, or Nell, 



14 The Schoolmaster and Other Poems. 

I saw at once he had her heart, 

And got it easy too, 
But jealousy took mine that night 

And moulded it anew. 

Her familiar ways with the man 
She had not known before, 

Made me suppose my case was lost, 
And angered me the more 

To think I had allowed my friends 

To name me as her beau ; 
To think I had pursued her 

When I hadn't any show 

To ever win a spark of love 

From such a one as she; 
For she built her airy castles 

While entertaining me. 

I formed a fixed opinion then 

About affairs of love- 
That man to win a maiden's heart, 

Must have a mind above 

Her highest flights of random thought, 
Where Cupid's dart is cast, 

To catch the arrow from the bow, 
And hold it to the last. 

1 thought of an education 

To build up such a mind, 
And make me envied by the swain 

For conquests left behind. 



The Schoolmaster and Other Poems. 15 

The pedagogue got through at last, 
And locked the school-house door, 

And wandered back to jersey where 
His grandsires were before. 

He quite forgot to say farewell 

To any maid in town; 
He quite forgot to pay the debts 

Which he contracted round. 

The good matrons were astonished 

About the way he went; 
The maidens all said chidingly 

" He wasn't worth a cent." 

And Anna Lee, my pretty maid, 

Seemed happy that he fled; 
For she joined the rest in laughing 

At the queer things he said. 

When we met at church on Sunday; 

Just after he took flight, 
She ventured an opinion and 

Asked if I thought it right 

About his famous ancestors, 

His gestures and his bow. 
Of course I thought her very right, 

I never couldthink how 

She could form a false opinion 

About such man as he. 
She was more confidential there 

Than ere bef ore. to me. 



16 The Schoolmaster and Other Poems. 

She turned away from the others 
Who were assembled there, 

And raised her hand' to my shoulder 
And picked therefrom a hair 

Which had blown there from the horses 

I drove that day to town; 
She joked about my overcoat — 

A pretty hazel brown — 

And told me of her latest dress — 

The fashion of the day; 
And how she was to have it made, 

And what she'd have to pay. 

She chattered, chattered right along; 

I did not say a word, 
But blankly gazed on vacant space, 

As if she was unheard; 

And when the young folks departed 

For their respective pews, 
I left her with a word half said, 

To devoutly peruse 

My hymnbook and the Sunday text 

Which I had laid away 
In a far corner of the pew, 

To serve me every day 

Wherein I spent an hour in church. 

The text was just the same 
For I never was attentive 

To anything but fame. 



The Schoolmaster and Other Poems, 17 

My roaming eye soon found her face, 
Twas jeweled bright with tears ; 

I see it now distinctly through 
The mists of twenty years ; 

She was gazing at her hymnbook, 

Her head somewhat inclined; 
But her streaming eyes told plainly 

What thoughts were in her mind. 

I knew Ihad acted foolish — 

That I had caused her tears — 
But did not know I wounded her 

For many weary years. 

My jealousy was uppermost; 

It led me right along. 
With reason absent from my mind 

There was no right or wrong. 

While my heart longed to be with her, 

My jealous mind would say : 
" She jilted you before my boy," 

And lead me right away. 

When jealousy controls our fate, 

Our lot is poorly cast; 
'Twill lead us high on airy wings 

And throw us hard at last. 

My spirit became quite moody; 

I longed to be alone 
To brood in silence o'er my cares ; 

My boyhood's life had gone. 



18 The Schoolmaster and Other Poems. 

When the demon of jealousy 
Swept matters from my mind, 

Which until then were uppermost 
All others left behind. 

It changed me to a caregrown man, 

Whose only hope in life 
Was vengeance wreaked upon the maid 

I hoped to make my wife. 

Vengeance for what ? I've often thought 

She never did me wrong; 
For the conquest I hoped to gain 

Did not to me belong. 

She never knew my fond desire, 

Unless she read my heart ; 
But now I see through my past life 

I've played a silly part. 

I showed my jealousy quite plain 

In acting as I did. 
My hopes in life I coffined up 

And fastened down the lid. 

She entertained the Schoolmaster, 

As sister Bess had done, 
As mistress of her father's house — 

A very genial one. 

Her lofty spirit disdained me 

For acting as I had, 
The latest time we met at church 

When I behaved so bad. 



The Schoolmaster and Other Poems. 19 

She never risked in later times, 

To waste a word on me 
Fearing' the most as I suppose, 

I'd show my jealousy. 

Thus the little gap between us 

Kept growing day by day, 
Until it brought us to a place, 

Where we had naught to say. 

So when at last she passed me by 

Without a friendly smile, 
I longed to leave my jealous scenes 

And seek afar awhile— 

To seek for an education 

In some far distant town, 
Where years may keep me far away, 

And then at last come round 

A professor or a doctor, 

With gaudy dress and hat, 
And hear the ones who stare at me 

Always enquire, "Who's that?" 

Then Anna would not wait for me 

To make apology; 
She'd forgive all my shortcomings 

And thank my jealousy 

For making me a gentleman 

Above the common clod, 
Whose earthly hopes are firmly fixed 

In a well practised nod. 



20 The Schoolmaster and Other Poems. 

Her father knew I was the best 
Young man in all the town; 

And often asked enquiringly, 
"Why don't you call around? 

Anna is home now every eve, 

And surely would enjoy 
To have you call as you used to, 

You careless, happy boy." 

But Anna knew my jealousy 

And I insulted her; 
I owed her two apologies 

Before I'd dare to stir 

A single step down toward her house, 
On my well trodden road; 

But still I hoped that she'd relent 
And thaw our icy load. 

Relent for what? I never thought 

To ask myself the why, 
When I figured in this drama 

Gome twenty years gone by. 

I sold my farm at the first chance, 
For cash down on the spot, 

The stock and wares I sold off too, 
And ready money got. 

I bade my friends a fond adieu, 
But never called on Ann, 

As if hers was the difference 
I did not understand; 



The Schoolmaster and Other Poems. 21 

So off for the education 

Which oft makes small men great, 
I took the first train out of town 

Likewise my whole estate. 

So I coursed my way through high school 

Also through famous Yale 
And I got a sheepskin diploma 

Whichfixed me up to sail 

My bark of life on any sea 

Where languages are spoke, 
And I had to sail right away 

Because I was "dead broke." 

My college years were expensive. 

I had spent every cent 
Of the fortune father left me 

Before I did repent 

Of my rash act in selling off 

My farm and stock and ware, 
But now I am what I desired — 

A scholar, poor and bare — 

Without a cent I dared not go 

Around my early home, 
But anxiously I looked around 

To find where I'd live from. 

At last I found a country school 

In a New England town, 
Which would sustain my famished hopes 

'Till better times would come. 



22 The Schoolmaster and Other Poems. 

There in the role of pedagogue, 
My mind oft wandered back 

To the scenes of early manhood, 
Which placed me on the rack 

Between Jealousy and Vengeance 

Where I've been crucified 
Fully twenty times a day 

By Conscience and by Pride. 

But there, as country school teacher, 

Mid duties manifold, 
I learned the lesson of my life 

About the wise and bold. 

I learned that greatness is not made, 

As many people say, 
By education and hard work 

And very little pay, 

But genius must be in the life 
That's destined to be great; 

And it takes more than common sense 
To rise above our fate. 

As for having education 
As much as schools can give 

To man on this mundane sphere 
To help him while he live, 

I am amply satisfied that 

I have absorbed my share 
Of book knowledge and common sense 

But still there's room to spare. 



The Schoolmaster and Other Poems. 23 

Somewhere among the faculties 

Of what I call my mind; 
Because I know there is a blank 

Which is not hard to find, 

If only one could see through eyes 

Lighted by nature's gift, 
He might early cast his follies 

To willing winds to sift. ' 

Of all vocations in this life 

School teacher is the worst, 
And if earth is expiation 

For sinners doomed and curst 

For sins against the universe 
From some far distant sphere, 

Where transient life may find a home, 
Ere wandering to here; 

And if the sins for which we're sent 

To suffer out our lot, 
Mark our position in this life 

From mansion to the cot, 

The soul which guides the school master 

Ere it joined earthly clay, 
Must have broken all commandments 

And then refused to pray. 

For there is no act in schoolroom, 

Or boarding house as well, 
Which does not work unanimous 

To make his life a hell; 



24 The Schoolmaster and Other Pvems. 

Unless, perhaps, he's callous 

To critic's sure complaint 
He'll hear things every day 'twould shake 

The halo from a saint. 

His clothes must be the latest style — 

A new suit every week — 
It matters not about wages 

(I know whereof I speak) 

His hair must lie exactly right, 

He must shave every day; 
He must never dare to laugh 'cause 

There's where critics prey. 

A smile will do a school teacher-- 

The vulgar only laugh — 
(But don't you think I have told all 

I have'nt told you half.) 

And in every rural district, 

Wherein his lot is cast, 
is an ancient maiden school ma'am 

Who taught there " year 'fore last." 

Though when you seek the register 
To find how she kept school, 

You must turn back a score of years 
Before you find her rule, 

For teaching children how to learn 

The quaint old alphabet. 
But still she's young, just twenty-six, 

She never will forget 



The Schoolmaster and Other Poems. 25 

What a cunning child Ida was, 

But Charley was a case. 
She "teached and learned" him all she knew 

About the country place 

In the mountain side in Vermont, 

Where is her father's farm; 
She told him of the tall pine trees 

Around her father's barn, 

And of the distant snow capped peaks 
Whose sides are wrapt in green, 

Everlasting through the seasons, 
And how she often "seen" 

The mountain brooks come gurgling down 

The rugged mountain side, 
From founts whose source was far above 

The rills the pine trees hide. 

But while she talked thus to Charley, 

His mind was far away 
From the scene she was depicting, 

The same as little May 

Had acted when I tried to tell 

Her a few hours before, 
Something she did not understand 

About the Leaning Tower. 

But she was always apt to teach; 

She quickly found a way 
To make her pupils attentive 

To every word she'd say; 



26 The Schoolmaster and Other Poems. 

But she had to differ from me 
About "teachin' " from books. 

She'd hold the book before her eyes 
And explore all the nooks 

In the lesson and ask questions 

As they appeared below 
Each topic the author discussed; 

Then the children would know 

What they were expected to learn 
And they would learn it too, 

The first would answer number one, 
The second number two; 

And so on to the lesson's end 
There would be no mistake 

About the answers which they gave 
Being correct. They'd make 

A miss of course once and a while 
The same as all might do, 

And if the first failed to answer, 
The question would go through 

From the first pupil to the last, 
Without being answered right. 

It was comical to see them 
In such a pretty plight 

They'd all accuse the number one 
Who missed the question first, 

And all declare unanimous 
Her lesson was the worst. 



The Schoolmaster and Other Poems. 27 

Punish a child ! Why, no, never." 
The children loved her so 
They would " break their necks " to please her 
If only they would know 

What she desired to have them do 

About the school or home; 
And after school they'd linger round, 

Afraid she'd be alone. 

That in the school the ancient maid 

Is friendly as can be, 
But when she joins with the spinsters 

In after-dinner tea, 

In discussing all the topics 

Of gossip and defame, 
She will not let the curtain fall 

Until the teacher's name 

Is handled by those fiery tongues, 

For every word he said 
The day she spent a while in school, 

(Though sorry now she did, 

'Cause the upper class of gossips 

Are saying what is not so, 
About her call on the teacher 

To claim him for a beau. 

She just despises such a man 

For his elastic ways 
In stretching out the precedents 

Of good old early days. 



28 The Schoolmaster and Other Poems. 

To think children could learn at all 

Without the alphabet, 
Is to assume them prodigies 

By inspiration set. 

And then his mathematics are 
The worst she ever u seen ; " 

He simply don't know how to teach 
What different terms mean. 

Instead of having his pupils 
Explain what they had done, 

He'll find out what they did not do 
From last to number one ; 

And then have them perform the work 

They failed to get before. 
He plies them with puzzling questions ; 

Oh ! he is such a bore. 

He never thinks to show a child 

How any thing is done, 
But will ask such silly questions 

Trying to lead them on. 

Such criticism would not hurt, 

If none believed her way, 
But when mammas are sure she's right 

In all she has to say, 

Then the papas and the school board 
Who know how they were taught, 

Ccmplain about the pedagogue 
And say he's good for naught, 



The Schoolmaster and Other Poems. 29 

Because he don't pursue the ways 

Of teachers long ago, 
In stuffing mental sausages 

Like those they used to know. 

They say the good old times are gone 
When they learned word for word, 

Every page in all their books 
As well as all they heard 

By the way of conversation 

Between two men of note, 
Such as clergymen and merchants 

And captains of a boat. 

They criticise the teacher, too, 

About his etiquette, 
And all the mechanical ways 

In which his life is set. 

Whoever heard of picking bones 

Without the teeth and hands, 
Or thought it impolite 

To read the different brands 

Of catsup and tomato sauce 
Which stand before your eyes, 

And compliment the very one 
Which took the latest prize ? 

Who ever dreamed of drinking tea 

From out a boiling cup, 
While in the saucer it may cool 

Ere it is fit to sup ; 



3o The Schoolmaster and Other Poems. 

Or tried to use a silver fork 

To eat a piece of pie, 
While a knife is waiting for him 

" Before his very eye?" 

His table manners are the worst 
Those folks have ever known; 

But he came from the wooly West 
Where wildest weeds are grown. 

Such criticism may be felt 

Or may be cast aside, 
According to the temperament 

Which must govern our pride. 

But there is a critic always 

About the teacher's heart, 
Which criticises every act 

Wherein he takes a part. 

It tells him where he did succeed 

And also where he failed; 
It shows him the propositions 

Before which he has quailed; 

It shows him, too, in such a way 
They cannot leave his mind 

Until he searches every creed 
The proper rules to find, 

Which will help him to overcome 
The ways wherein he's weak 

While teaching children common terms 
As well as fjengb or Greek. 



The Schoolmaster and Other Poems. 3l 



This critic's name is Conscience and 

Is every teacher's foe, 
No matter what he tries to do 

It's always sure to know. 

It saps the life and vigor from 
The heart and active brain, 

And all the ills of flesh and blood 
Must follow in its train. 

Of course it won't strike all alike, 

For some are apt to teach, 
But like the ranter in the night 

Who hears a call to preach, 

And straightway tries the narrow path 
Where clergymen must walk, 

He finds it's like a rope for him, 
Whose swinging makes him balk. 

But he pursues the narrow way 

Because he heard the call; 
'Tis true he cannot walk the path 

And very oft will fall 

A victim to race prejudice, 
Which leads the ranter on, 

And never dreams the call he heard 
Was from the Evil One. 

'Tis just the same with the teacher 

Who is not apt to teach, 
As with the prejudiced preacher 

Who is not apt to preach; 



32 The Schoolmaster and Other Poems. 

The one benumbs the human mind 

By stranding it on shoals, 
The other by false pretenses 

Is damning human souls. 

Tis difficult to know just now 
Which one is doing the worst, 

But one prepares for the other 
And both are justly curst. 

A narrow mind without reason 

Is always first to grasp 
The volume of superstition 

And open wide the clasp, 

Ranters, traitors, and murderers 

Are products of the home, 
Where narrow minds unite to build 

A model epitome — 

A teacher who can't break the crust 

That is around the mind, 
Should seek through the workshops till he 

Fitter employment finds; 

And not have the generation 

Which follows in his wake, 
Like savages heaping fagots 

Around the martyr's stake 

I always will remember if 

I live a hundred years 
Through toils like those of my past life, 

Through misery and tears, 



The Schoolmaster and Other Poems. 33 

The punishment inflicted once 

Upon a little boy; 
By me 'tis true when I commenced 

To curb the youngsters joy. 

For that I thought the primal aim 

Of every teacher's life; 
So I but practised what I learned 

Ere I commenced the strife. 

A laughing child was always whipped 

To straighten out his face, 
As I was told when I was young 

'Twould make him know his place. 

So when I found one laughing out 

In the first school I taught, 
I straightway on his fingers tried 

The ferule I had bought 

To use on every occasion 

Where one transgressed my rules, 
For I imagined I would keep 

The most perfect of schools. 

The little fellow shook with fear 

Before I struck a blow; 
His chin was ruffled like a pool 

Beneath a water flow; 

But when I struck his finger tips 

And saw the blood burst out, 
I thought him punished hard enough 

Beyond the slightest doubt. 



34 The Schoolmaster and Other Poems. 

The little fellow wept awhile, 
And then perused his book, 

And oft upon his bleeding hand 
Would cast a painful look. 

Though no ill will was in his heart 
He felt he had done wrong, 

And frankly told me why he had 
After our evening song. 

He said for years he was unwell 

And oft times sick abed, 
And then proceeded to tell me 

The many things he did, 

Because the doctor told him if 

He wanted to be well, 
He'd have to take his medicine 

Whene'er the time would tell; 

The clock had struck the very hour 
That he should take a dose, 

And sipping from his little vial 
He dropped some on his clothes; 

The other boys commenced to laugh 
And that made him begin; 

And that is why he acted wrong, 
In laughing as he did. 

But all the while he talked this way 
He held his hand away — 

Behind his back or by his side — 
Perhaps afraid he may 



The Schoolmaster and Other Poems. 35 



Exhibit his bleeding fingers 

To my despotic gaze. 
Fearing it was a mark of shame 

To wear the ferule's raise. 

Despite all I knew of teaching, 
I felt I had done wrong; 

I also felt the little boy 
Would not be with us long. 

His hollow eye and shrunken form 

I had not seen before 
As plainly as I did that night, 

While he recited o'er 
The trouble of his little life 

For seven years and more. 
i 
That night before he left for home 

He asked me to forgive, 
And said he'd be a better boy 

"The longest day I live." 

If I only would forgive him, 

He'd never laugh again 
In school, or church, or any place 

Where it was such a sin. 

It pained me then to see the hand 

He tried to hold away; 
It pained me more than all to hear 

The little fellow say 



36 The Schoolmaster and Other Poems. 

That he did wrong to laugh just then, 

But would do so no more; 
He smiling bowed then took his leave, 

And sottly closed the door. 

I watched him as he walked along 

That quiet country lane, 
And thought of what a brute I was 

To aggravate his pain. 

Retribution came sure and fast 

And dealt a lasting blow, 
When I saw the little fellow 

Approach the fountain's flow, 

And wash with care his bleeding hand 

And wipe his tearful eyes. 
He wished to face his family 

In a complete disguise, 

That they would not know his troubles 

Or ever think to ask 
If he " was whipped" that day at school 

For failing in his task. 

Next morning he came quite early, 

And, busy as a bee, 
Applied himself in helping me 

Do everything he'd see 

That should be done, as he supposed, 

Before the pupils came; 
And then went out to romp with them 

In playing a boyish game. 



The Schoolmaster and Other Poems. 37 

When school had called he took his books, 

His lessons all perused, 
But ere the time for recess came 

He asked to be excused. 

His head had ached so bad, he said. 

He wanted to go home, 
And if he would get better soon 

He surely back would come. 

The last I saw when he left was 

His badly swollen hand, 
When at the door he glanced along 

The peaceful, level land. 

His schoolmates brought me bulletins, 

Saying he was getting well; 
I thought he would until I heard 

His little sister Nell 

Tell to his questioning playmates 

The words the doctor said; 
Scarce a half a week had passed till 

I heard that tie was dead. 

I hurried to the home of grief, 

Consoling, as I thought, 
His schoolmates and his family, 

Who all seemed sadly wrought. 

But I of all should be consoled 

When I beheld the corse, 
For conscience then commenced to rack 

And there is nothing worse; 



38 The Schoolmaster and Other Poems. 

When I beheld the wasted form, 
The wreck that death had left; 

And when I saw the face and arms 
Of motion now bereft, 

And last of all the beaten hands 
Were crossed upon his breast, 

In one was clasped a lily, white 
As ruffled ocean's crest. 

That very hand showed ruddy marks, 
Where blood had bursted through; 

They had not healed before his death 
But looked as fresh and new 

As they did the day I beat him 

For laughing in his joy, 
About the freaks of others, like 

A careless, happy boy. 

But there beside that bed of death, 

I felt perhaps like Cain; 
I knew I curbed his happiness, 

I knew I caused him pain; 

So there before I left that spot 

I made a solemn vow, 
That while I lived upon this sphere 

I never would allow 

My temper or my human pride 

To carry me so far 
As punish little children or 

Their pleasant past-times mar. 



The Schoolmaster and Other Poems. 39 

But time has wrought its changes now, 

Upon the boy I was 
When I staked my handsome fortune 

For a trivial cause; 

And the great man I hoped to be 

Is farther from me now 
Than when a youth of twenty years 

I followed father's plow. 

I have the education but 

There's something that I lack, 
There's something in my make up and 

It always keeps me back; 

And I am not a professor — 
Though I might hold a chair — 

And the farmer's hat I despised 
Is good enough to wear. 

So after teaching seven years, 

And saving all I could, 
In the rural towns of Vermont; 

I felt it time I should 

Attempt a little visit to 

The state where I was born, 
Among the homes of early friends 

And fields of yellow corn. 

But Oh, how much the place has changed 

Since twenty years ago ! 
The land, the trees, and even friends 

Are not what I did know. 



40 The Schoolmaster and Other Poems. 

Another generation now 

Pursues my early play, 
And the way they observe strangers, 

Is a different way 

From what I anticipated; 

They'd notice one like me; 
For I wear all my dignity 

And show off high degree. 

But professor, doctor, lawyer, 

Or any other name 
That I would fain associate 

With pride akin to fame, 

Have not been bestowed upon me 
As I had hoped they would; 

But "Old Fossil" and "Rubber Neck," 
" Weary Willie " and " Mud," 

Are among the appellations 
With which my course is hailed, 

And I can't say that they're far wrong 
Of one whose life has failed. 

And Anna Lee is now alone, 
An "Old Maid," it you please, 

She's mistress of her father's farm — 
He's dead these many years. 

We met at church last Sunday and 
Exchanged our courtesies; 

Though her manner was more distant 
Than e'er before to me; 



The Schoolmaster and Other Poems. 41 

She didn't invite me to her house 

As I had hoped she would, 
But merely spoke of the present 

And hoped my health was good; 

She was also in a hurry 

And had not long to wait; 
She cut our conversation short 

Fearing she would be late. 

That day at Sunday services. 

My mind wandered away 
Back in the past just twenty years, 

To that remorseful day, 
When I listened to her stories 

Without a word to say. 

But still I'm as proud as ever, 

Though jealousy is gone; 
I cannot ask her pardon for 

The wrong that I have done. 

So I must live my life alone, 

Or overcome my pride, 
And that I know I cannot do, 

Though others may deride 

My foolishness in saying so; 

I know whereof I speak; 
It blanked my life those twenty years 

And made me poor and weak. 



42 The Schoolmaster and Other Poems, 

So if Anna don't invite me, 

I surely will not call, 
For a friendly conversation 

And — well I guess that's all — 

For she's just as proud as I am 

And she studied etiquette, 
Since the time when we were children 

Or when we last had met. 

Now if I want to visit her 
And break our little caste-, 

I must apologize and make 
Atonement for the past. 

But pride will not allow me to . 

Admit that I was wrong, 
So I'll wander back to Vermont 

And join that weary throng 

Of teachers in the public schools 

Who labor all their day, 
For a very poor existence 

And very little pay. 

My shadow of life is falling 
Now, somewhat toward the east, 

And with grey hairs and wrinkled face 
I can't say I am pleased 

With the hard lot I have taken 
For what I might have been, 

If I only kept my farm I'd 
Be happiest of men. 



The Schoolmaster and Other Poems. 43 

In every life there is a trait, 

To send it up or down; 
To cast gems in our rustic way 

Or strand us in a town. 

Now I'm a wreck of jealous pride, 

My boyish hopes are gone; 
And I must trip this weary way 

Unfriended and alone, 

And think of course upon the past, 

Such times no more I'll see, 
When I spent the winter evenings 

Along with Anna Lee. 




44 The Schoolmaster and Other Poems. 



WAITING. 



I've waited round Micawber like, 
"For something to turn up," 

Hoping some lucky day to strike 
Some pleasure in my cup. 

I've sat beneath the noonday sun, 
I've tripped the morning dew, 

I've sipped the summer's sweet perfume, 
And smelled the clover new. 

But still the object which I seek 

Is ever far away; 
It matters not how much I speak, — 

It never shows a ray 

Of hope to light my weary road, 

Or dim my fateful dreams 
Which strike ambition with their goad 

And cloud the brilliant gleams 

Of what my destiny does show 

In her reflecting glass — 
That surely I should try to know — 

That which will come to pass. 

So now farewell to low desires 

That lie around and wait, 
For I'll burn on my altar fires, 

Till I achieve my fate. 



The Schoolmaster and Other Poems. 45 

MIND. 

When the mind is wrapt in Morpheus* embrace, 
And from cares of the world is fittingly free, 

The placid profile of the sleeper's face 

Tells naught of emotions the mind may see. 

The mind is there more active than awake, 
And follows the dictates of daily life 

From the beginning, to where they will make 
Our mental creations victors in strife. 

The will of the dreamer is wrapt in repose, 
Free from the mind which it seeks to control; 

And there may forget all its troubles and woes, 
While its phantoms are nearing their prom- 
ised goal. 

But memory tells of the freaks of the mind, 
When the eye of the soul glances her way, 

For there on the filmy structure 'twill find 
The impress of pictures with which it did 
play. 

Those very impressions make life for us all 
More easily lived while we linger here; 

For happiness hinges on every call 
Of those very pictures we cherish so dear. 

But why is the will the guardian of the mind? 

And why can't the mind in itself be free, 
To build up creations endeavoring to find 

Its favorite phantom whatever it be? 



46 The Schoolmaster and Other Poems. 

The mind is the life which is destined to last 
In the dim distant future we pray for now; 

The will with the body will likely be cast 
In the narrow walled chamber down here 
below. 

When the mind is free from the wills restraint 
To wander with pleasure through fancies 
domain, 
Through the future unknown and old times 
quaint, 
To connect all the links in creation's chain. 

Then it is genius the father of all 

The legacies left by the world's great dead; 
To be used and consumed by the great and 
small, 

In filling the vacancies in the head. 



The Schoolmaster and Other Poems. 47 



A FESTAL DAY. 



Each nation has its festal day, 

Wherein it dedicates 
Its pomp and power in rich array 

To glorify its states. 

Some unravel the scroll of time 

To ages far away, 
When glory spreads her wings sublime 

Above some carnal fray 

Others revert to ancient urns 
, For an inspiring thought, 
From where their hoarded glory burns 
O'er battles bravely fought. 

The whipped-out ashes of the past 
Are sifted through and through, 

Trying to make the spirit cast 
Its glory o'er anew. 

But times will change the same as men, 

And nations live and die, 
Despite the fact their origin 

Seemed glorified for aye. 

The cherished deeds that's long agone 

Are rapidly replaced 
By deeds of glory hourly done 

By leaders of our race. 



48 The Schoolmaster and Other Poems. 

To-day the greatest man of men 
Is he who does the most 

To rectify the world's sin, 
And storm the monster's post. 

So when the future lifts the veil, 
Which now obscures our view, 

The eyes of then may gladly hail 
Our Festal fresh as new. 



The Schoolmaster and Other Poems. 49 



LIFE 



Between the cold and barren peaks 

Of two eternities, 
A little childish prattle speaks 

Of the world's mysteries. 

Life occupies the narrow vale, 
Where blooms the summer green ; 

And on the surf its ruffled sail 
Is very often seen. 

Beyond the distant mountain tops 

Is the abode of death ; 
On these peaks no traveler stops 

To use his latest breath, 

To help the weary pilgrims on, 

Who here do wildly grope 
Among the lights of other suns 

To find their star of hope. 

So if some passing soul should wait 

A moment on the top, 
And to us here below relate 

The doings on the slope, 

Beyond the peak which hides our view 
From seeing the other side ; 

We'd know the past, and future too, 
Of all our human pride. 



50 The Schoolmaster and Other Poems. 



HOBSON. 



Hobson meant the same as joke, 

The first I heard of it ; 
Now 'tis wreathed in Battle smoke- 

A hero every bit 

Smoke, of course, will blow away, 
And then we'll see his name 

Above the bivouac and fray, 
High in the lists of fame. 

In the lists will it repose 
Among the cool and great, 

Who shed their luminous glows 
Above their honored states ? 

Oh no ! State lines never bind 

A fame as high as his ; 
Tis honored where'er mankind 

In regal glory is. 



The Schoolmaster and Other Poems. 51 



GENIUS. 



Reason is the agent by which mankind 
Solves problems of life in a simple way ; 

The troubles and trials he will always find 
Are consigned to a cause without delay. 

Instinct is the agent by which the brute 
Reads the hearts and faces of all he sees ; 

It enables the beast to institute 
A cause and effect for reason's decrees. 

The brute with instinct, the man with reason 
Combine to know all there is to be known ; 

But each in separate sphere and season 

Lives and communes in a world of his own. 

When reason and instinct unite in one, 
A genius is born to grace our domain ; 

It matters little in which it has come, 
The manifestations are just the same. 



52 The Schoolmaster and Other Poems. 



AN EXILE. 



The river Thames was crowded 
With ships from every sea ; 

The flags at mast-head blended, 
A charming sight to see, 

Of nations that existed 

Both near and far away ; 
And yet their ships for England, 

Ploughed through the ocean spray, 

To try for traffic's margin 

With Britain's pearly Isle, 
And bring to anxious lovers 

Albion's latest style. 

Between the ships the surging 
Of waves would go and come, 

Or strike a ship abroadside 
With sound like muffled drum. 

On land were thronged the sailors, 
Their provincial songs they sung 

To notes of England's greatness, 
Proclaimed in every tongue. 

One ship from all was signaled— 

She played a foreign air, 
High on the topmast streaming 

A foreign flag was there. 



The Schoolmaster and Other Poems. 53 

Her sails were set for sailing 

And tacking with the breeze ; 
Her canvas showed the customs 

Of narrow, crowded seas. 

The gang-plank was not lifted, 

As others would come on ; 
On shore was seen approaching 

Great Britain's greatest son. 

His head was drooping forward, 
His glance was on the ground, 

His step was lithe and careful, 
If caution could be found 

In a heart tried, and bleeding 

From every gaping pore 
Made by the stabs of critics, 

To drive him from their shore. 

His hopes in life were blasted 

By disappointed love, 
Which guides the course of many, 

And makes the mind to rove. 

His face wore thoughtful wrinkles, 
His hair was mixed with gray, 

Although these aged fixtures 
Showed premature decay, 

His sparkling eye showed spirit 

Of unexhausted fire, 
His broad, expansive forehead, 

A brain 'twas hard to tire. 



54 The Schoolmaster and Other Poems. 

He wandered forth an exile, 

To fade in other climes, 
And in the hearts of strangers 

Read friendship for his rhymes. 

He reached the captain's cabin, 

And took a long farewell 
Glance at the towers of London — 

The scenes he loved so well. 

The ship sailed out to ocean, 
The bard looked toward the shore, 

And watched the last hill fading — 
The hills he'd see no more. 

"Roll on, thou deep, blue ocean," 

Were the first words that he spoke ; 
Tears on his face were streaming, 
As if his heart had broke. 

He watched the tossing billows, 
Where the ship rose and fell. 

Another glance toward England, 
And said again, " Farewell, 

Farewell, this time forever, 

The nation I adore." 
He uttered, glancing leeward : 

" Farewell forevermore." 

In time the ship had anchored 

Outside a Grecian port ; 
Ere long the bard was quartered 

Before a Turkish fort, 



The Schoolmaster and Other Poems. 55 

To fight for Grecian freedom, 

And help the struggling slave 
On the historic mountains, 

Whose base the waters lave 

With the same surging waters 
That two thousand years before 

Buoyed a fleet at Hellespont, 
To devastate the shore 

Of every Christian nation 

That lived beneath the cross. 
'Twas there the cross and crescent 

On every breeze did toss, 

That wafted from the battle 
Where Europe's hope was sealed, 

To be a Christian country — 
The cross upon her shield. 

Ere long his broken spirit 

Succumbed to fast decay, 
Till the night of death released 

The life he'd give away. 

.Twas then the world proclaimed 

The genius of the dead, 
And naught a word of malice 

Was in a word it said. 

It saw through eyes of reason 

The brightest light decline, 
That ever shone in England, 

Since earth first cycled time. 



56 The Schoolmaster and Other Poems. 

To grace the brow of genius 
Mankind prepares a wreath 

Of thorns while he is living — 
Of flowers when wrapt in death. 

The low forehead of envy 
Does always lurk around 

The thorny briers and brambles, 
Where genius first is found. 



The Schoolmaster and Other Poems. 57 



MY LAST DAY. 



To-day I lock the school-house door 
And bid my friends farewell ; 

I've labored here four years and more, 
And done my duty well. 

Successnow shines upon my work, 

From every side it looks ; 
But hidden envy always lurks 

Outside the pale of books. 

While I'm successful in the school, 

As any one can be ; 
There are some things not done by rule, 

Which I will let you see. 

Those little things which we neglect, 
Will some day cast us down ; 

To our hard lot, where we'll detect 
The things we should have known. 

The oldest boys did graduate ; 

The oldest girls have gone ; 
But younger ones will take their place 

In filling up the room. 

The directors have concluded 

My wages are too high ; 
And say they won't be deluded 

With teachers such as I. 



58 The Schoolmaster and Other Poems. 

When they can secure another 

For nearly half the pay ; 
And 'twill be but little bother 

To let me go away. 

So I must go, as I have said, 

To seek another home, 
Among the schools which need a head 

To guide their work along. 

There are " scabs " in all professions, 

Likewise in every trade ; 
And without the least concessions, 

They keep success delayed. 

The transient life I'm forced to live 

Is fixed as a rule, 
And is the fate of all who'll give 

Their lives to teaching school. 

And does the District gain thereby, 
In getting cheaper straw ? 

Oh no ! They blunt the minds for aye, 
Of those which are not raw. 

The mind which tries to train a mind, 

Must lead it to a place 
Where it can unassisted find 

The joys in nature's face. 

Or if it stops, perchance, half way, 

Or if it is replaced, 
It's silenced, like a tombstone, gray — 

A monument defaced. 



The Schoolmaster and Other Poems. 59 

Of all the minds there are on earth, 

No two are just alike; 
For some are more than others worth, 

In reason and in strife. 

The faculties don't act the same, 
No matter how they're taught; 

And educators must not blame 
The talent latest bought. 

The modern education, 

Where teachers change each year, 
Retards the civilization 

Which we hope is drawing near. 

The minds of old, which shed their lights 

Unto this distant day, 
Were tutored in their lofty flights, 

By one mind, all the way. 

But modern education — 
Our so called Public Schools — 

Have teachers in rotation, 
Each serving like a tool. 

To be used but for a moment, 

And then be cast away; 
And leave minds just like the comets 

To wander all their day. 



60 The Schoolmaster and Other Poems. , 



DID YOU EVER? 

Did you ever know a man, 
Who when reason first began 

To manifest its wonders on his mind ! 
Did not commence to blunder, 
And pick edicts asunder, 

Like a critic of the very latest kind ? 

Did you ever chance to know 
How the juggler at the show 

Manipulates your pocket book and hat; 
How he ties himself with cords, 
And unties himself with words, 

While you strain your eyes to find where 
he's at ? 

Did you ever know a boy, 
When he lost his latest toy, 

Who would not say it was the very best, 
That could anywhere be found 
By the expert on his round, 

'Cause he had put it to the hardest test ? 

Did you ever know a maid, 
Whose proposal is delayed 

By the fellow who is holding her allot, 
But is single through her choice, 
Though she never heard the voice 

To whisper in her ear the words she 
sought. 



The Schoolmaster and Other Poems. 61 

Did you ever know a youth, 
But has always told the truth 

About the latest mischief played in town; 
And he swears he was not there, 
But don't know exactly where 

He was playing when that Summer house 
fell down ? 

Did you ever know a ma, 
But can" always find a flaw 

On all the other babies but her own ? 
They all are very homely 
Except the one that's comely 

And that's, of course, her darling little one. 

Did you ever know a pug, 

When he's rapped across the mug 

By the fellow who enticed him in the ring, 
Who at first won't pout and prance, 
Then ask for another chance 

To demonstrate his novel knockout 
swing. 



62 The Schoolmaster and Other Poems. 



FINE FEATHERS. 



A sportsman with his rifle bound 

For the feeder— a grassy swamp, 
Close beside him was baying his hound, 

When the sportsman's impatient stamp 
Caused the brute to lie low and whine, 

Until his master's gun had lined 
A bobolink — the first he found 

Of her species in that morass — 
The shot was fired, he sprang to find 

The fallen bird among the grass, 
And laid it at his master's feet 

With his well trained disciplined greet. 

Throughout that day the sportsman shot 

Every denizen of that swamp, 
That in the range of rifle got, 

While he enjoyed his summer romp; 
He bagged the gaudy feathered birds, 

To hear his little daughter's words 
Of pleasure at the songster's pomp, 

While she selected plumes she sought 
Among the matted feathers damp 

To pair with those she lately bought; 
In fixing up her summer's dress 

To show more colors than the rest. 



The Schoolmaster and Other Poems. 63 



That night his happiness boiled o'er 
At the sweet looks his daughter gave 

To the dead birds upon the floor; 
Till she could find the plumes she'd have 

To fix herself in rich array 

For the approaching holiday. 

But his glad heart could rise no more, 
When she took up the bobolink, 

And scanned his plumage o'er and o'er, 
While her soft eyes began to blink 

With swelling tears straight from her heart 

To see the pride of poet's art 

Brought to his death to please a whim 

Of silly girls or hunter's shot; 
And straightway here she did begin 

To tell her father what she thought 
About this cruel, cruel wrong 
Of killing off the birds of song; 

" Father," she said, " I never ought 

To show a smiling face again, 
As penance for those birds you've shot, 

In trying to gratify my whim, 
For here lies dead the happy lark 
Which cheered my way from morn till dark. 



64 The Schoolmaster and Other Poems. 



"And here, the black bird, always gay, 
Is limp in death from your cruel sport; 

The oriole and poor blue jay 
Have had their little lives cut short; 

The robin, too, the children's friend, 

You killed her while she did defend 

Her young from your unfeeling heart 
Which prompted you to kill the birds 

Which always strive to do their part; 
Their happy ways speak more than words, 

But now I fear the wood is bare, 

For your cruel shot has sounded there. 

"The wild canary and brown thrush 
Are mingled in this heap of dead; 

The songsters of the flower and bush, 
This day their sacred blood have shed 

To make for me a gaudy plume 

That will outshine the roses bloom; 

But should kind fancy ever lead 
My footsteps o'er those woods again, 

I'd want to hear those birds, now dead, 
To sing, 'Forgive her father's sin;' 

He did not stay in the morass, 

Such birds as these don't live in grass. 



The Schoolmaster and Other Poems. 65 



"Bryant gave to the bobolink 
The sweetest song he ever wrote; 

Lowell did from Pan's goblet drink 
To sate his muse to sing a note 

For this sweet songster of the mead, 

Are they now looking at them dead ? 

Fearing they are, I tell you now, 
No matter what the world may think, 

No feather will adorn my brow 
Of songster such as bobolink; 

Ne'er a plume will to me belong 

Which robs the woodland of its song." 



66 The Schoolmaster and Other Poems. 



PATRIOTISM. 



Patriotism is very oft a word 

That's passively spoken by one less inclined 
To practice its pretexts. They're free as are 
birds 

To chatter with pleasure o'er their latest find, 
Or change their relations concerning the flag, 
The same as they would about any old rag. 



But the patriot, who has suffered the test 
Of proving devotion for his native land, 

And wears the battle scars on his gallant breast, 
Is always slow the cause to understand, 

Why tin soldiers — sunshine patriots — are now 

Always uniformed and looking for a row. 



But the very moment when peace disappears, 
And like distant thunder is Mar's trumpet 
blast, 

Then this professional patriot's ears 
Are deaf to his nation's demands to the last. 

The colors he wore and the flags he displayed 

Now injure his eyes because he's afraid. 



The Schoolmaster and Other Poems. 67 



Devotion for country should never be taught, 

To make patriotic the rising young men ; 
The home is the workshop where duty is 
wrought, 
In the minds of children their rights to 
defend. 
If the parents are just what they ought to be, 
Our nation will ever and always be free. 



If the nation is just in its course with all, 
No jealousies then will ever arise ; 

The peasant and banker will answer the call 
To serve in the ranks in defending their 
prize. 

Then our defenders will trust inspiration 

To make patriotic the young of our nation. 



68 The Schoolmaster and Other Poems. 



AN EVIL. 



What is the greatest evil 

That faces us to-day, 
When wizard, witch and devil 

Are banished far away? 

Why are not the present times 

As hopeful as the past, 
When exiles from barren climes 

To us their hopes did cast? 

Is it because this nation 

Is now on the decline, 
And every father's ration 

Must serve his future line? 

'Tis not more than forty years, 
Since treasures rich and rare, 

Decked the face kind nature wears 
With every person's share. 

But some far-seeing Shylocks 

Are driving every hour, 
Into the jaws of Moloch 

Those who are in their power. 

They grasp the shares of others 
And impoverish the road, 

That's traveled by their brothers. 
While fleeing from the goad. 



The Schoolmaster and Other Poems. 69 



This vast accumulation 

Of wealth in very few, 
Will surely strand our nation, 

In the coffers of the Jew. 

Discontent does now prevail 

In every walk of life; 
Very soon a stormy gale 

Will'blow us into strife. 

Where we will find our pretexts 

Have very oft been wrong, 
In divining ways perplexed 

To build secure and strong, 

A ship of state to weather 

The ocean's stormy gales, 
With friend and foe together 

To hoist her spreading sails. 

The rock where strands our transport, 

Is now before the bow, 
And those who lead our cohprts 

Are steering for it now. 

For millionaires spend away 

Among the regal powers 
Profits in a reckless way, 

Constructing princely towers. 



70 The Schoolmaster and Other Poems 



For nations are all workshops 
Wherein their profits should 

Be spent to make the worms stop 
Destroying all the wood. 

To repair the ship of state 

With worm-eaten oak, 
Is tempting a friendly fate 

To deal our final stroke. 



The Schoolmaster and Other Poems. 71 



A FOREST. 



Behold the forest far away, 
Fringed up beside the plain. 

How gracefully its branches sway 
Above the golden grain ! 

The foliage is silvery sheen, 

Reflected in the sun, 
And shows off nature's gorgeous green 

When twilight has begun. 

/et for a view with naked eye, 
There's naught so grand and fair; 

Perfection seems to linger by 
The scenes where forests are. 

From where we stand we cannot see 
The windfall on the ground, 

Nor dried up branches on the tree 
Where withered leaves are found. 

The mighty oak the ljghtning cleft 

Is hidden from our eyes; 
The swarthy path the tempest left 

Wears nature's rich disguise. 



72 The Schoolmaster and Other Poems. 



Even the brush which grows beneath, 

Is shielded by the leaves 
Which circle round in verdant wreaths 

Like beards on golden sheaves. 

Such always should our nation be, 

When sighted from afar; 
The peering eye should never see 

The conflict or the scar. 



The Schoolmaster and Other Poems. 73 

GIFTS. 

Of all the gifts which heaven reposed 

In the clay of mortal man, 
There isn't one which has disclosed 

A reason why it began , 
To inspire the spirit of him 

Whose course it controlled in life, 
To banish shadows dark and dim 

For those who are wrestling strife. 

Nature prepares a special gift 

For advancing every art, 
And silently its systems lift 

The shade which surrounds the heart, 
Which common talent can't remove 

No matter how high attained; 
The touch of genius is above 

The loftiest peak e'er gained. 

By talent's unrewarded toil, 

While investing every cause 
Where it labored — but to recoil 

To the shore where genius was. 
The search of talent often ends 

In opening up the mind 
To inspired thoughts which always send 

Reason to the place 'twill find, 

The object talent sought in vain, 
While burning her midnight flame. 
Talent is lost in inspired gain 
The moment when genius came. 



74 The Schoolmaster and Other Poems. 



THE PANSY. 



I saw the pansy purple hued 

Salute the sunny day; 
Her plump petals were richly dewed 

With nature's pearls of May. 

On every tiny sepal point 

Reposed a sparkling gem, 
The like of which the earth's anoint 

Can never place on men. 

How frail and tender it appeared, 

While decked in this array! 
How modestly her petals feared 

To kiss the welcome ray! 

The pomp and power of wealth and fame 

Were absent from her glow, 
And yet the glory of a name 

Is lost in pompous show. 



The Schoolmaster and Other Poems. 75 



SELFISHNESS. 



Were you ever at church with nothing to do 
But watch the poor sinners as they saunter 
past — 
Pass judgment on dress goods — the old and 
the new — 
And wonder which ones were made o'er 
from the last 
Holiday dress which the wearer had worn ? 
Perhaps you may wonder while watching the 
style, 
That every young maiden, as rosy as morn, 
When inside the pew she sits next to the 
aisle. 



Even the old fellow who's nearing the grave, 

Whose clothes are unbrushed and whose hair 
is uncombed, 
And to the late fashions has ne'er been a slave, 

It is even doubtful if e'er he'd been groomed, 
His devotions are bubbling out on his lips, 

He hasn't an eye for the fashion in style; 
He ambles straight forward and knowingly sits 

Where least you'd expect him, right next to 
the aisle. 



76 The Schoolmaster and Other Poems. 



And e'en the decked maiden, who always comes 
late, 
With her ribbons and feathers flowing quite 
free, 
Marches straight forward with a well practiced 
gait, 
While her eyes are rolling on all sides to see 
If there is not a place where vacancy broods 
In the well filled pews where is flitting the 
style. 
In her face can be seen her different moods 
As she looks for a seat that's next to the 
aisle. 

Of course the young fellow, whose linen is 
white, 

Is as pious and careful as man can be. 
His head will not turn to the left or the right, 

But his eyeballs are rolling, trying to see 
The face of the maiden whose beauty he loves, 

Where she is reclining in elegant style; 
His chin is forward as he aimlessly roves 

In search of a seat that is next to the aisle. 

The old wrinkled woman approaches at last 

The pew where she sat on the Sunday before; 
Her spectacled eyes are reluctantly cast 

On the charity pews set off for the poor; 
She pauses before one and looks toward the 
next, 

While her withering glance peruses the style; 
Her countenance shows as if greatly perplexed, 

Her custom demands a seat next to the aisle. 



The Schoolmaster and Other Poems. 77 

But when you see enter the careless young 
child, 

And racingly stops at the end of the pew, 
You can see his sweet face has ne'er been defiled 

By thoughts of position or fashions anew. 
The hats and the feathers are lost to his gaze, 

He recklessly glances above every style; 
His simple devotion the pastors amaze, 

For he never thinks of a seat near the aisle. 

Greediness is stamped on the devotee's face, 

And lust is betrayed by a half closed eye; 
Ambition, itself, leaves a lasting trace 

On the lips of the fellow it anchors by; 
Envy will sneer at a rival's success, 

And penury dress up in the latest style; 
The miser floats ever his flag of distress, 

But selfishness always sits next to the aisle. 



78 The Schoolmaster and Other Poems. 



COMPARISON. 

The leaves of the forest are withered and sear, 

When grasped by late autumn's cold icy fin- 
gers; 
The hopes of the dreamer are never so dear, 

As when the crystal transparently lingers 
Before his closed eyes exposing her treasure 

Of fancy's creations, whatever they be, 
To build up the rythm the music and measure* 

For poesy's fair muse in sweet harmony. 

The crystal of life, however transparent, 

Is decidedly dim compared with the ice; 
We see through our glass the present apparent, 

Without ever thinking of looking twice. 
But the withering leaf while fanning the breeze 

Tells all of its past and its future as well; 
Its filmy gauze and its texture may freeze 

Its last drop of life ere it says its farewell. 

The withering human, when nearing the clay, 

Gives a thought to the life with which it must 
part. 
Is it to exist in the dim far-away 

Without the emotions of his buried heart? 
But the leaf ere it flies with the playful wind 

To be whirled to rest in the clayey mould, 
Is sure that its life is secure behind 

In the bud which defends it from storms and 
cold. 



The Schoolmaster and Other Poems. 79 



The human looks forward to heavenly bliss, 
When the trials of earth and her cares are 
o'er, 
But the leaf will remain contented with this, — 
To sway on the branch where it withered 
before. 
The life of the human proposes to find 

An abode of pure joy where want is unknown, 
Where conscience and sickness and sorrow 
can't find, 
The luminous way where the spirit has flown. 



80 The Schoolmaster and Other Poems. 



OUR HAPPY DAYS. 



To-day I stand upon the peak 

Of many painful years, 
And think of those of whom I speak 

Through fastly falling tears. 

The ones who joined my early play 
Around the old brick school, 

Are in my memory to-day — 
Each striving for his goal. 

Then our light hearts had known no care 
That would distress our mind, 

And every child who joined us there 
Was happy, dear, and kind, 

The toys of one belonged to all, 

At least, we felt they were; 
I cannot even now recall 

A selfish motive there. 

Our marbles and our tops we gave 
To those who played the game, 

To win or lose, to keep or save; 
They were ours just the same. 

And if a seat should vacant be, 

For even half a day, 
His schoolmates all would anxiously 

Inquire why his delay. 



The Schoolmaster and Other Poems. 81 

And if we found he was unwell, 

And forced to stay away, 
We'd to him all our stories tell 

At close of every day. 

Our latest toys, and money too, 

We'd on him all bestow, 
With hopes they would his life renew, 

To join our playful glow. 

But if th£ messenger of Death 

Should linger at his door, 
In wait to grasp his latest breath 

When life's struggle was o'er, 

'Twas then our tears were freely shed 

Through sorrow and remorse. 
We thought upon the words he said 

While weeping o'er his corse. 

Our aims in life were then as free 

From selfishness and care, 
As any life can ever be, 

Where even seraphs are. 

But now we've changed to full-grown men, 

Who tread this dreary road, 
O'er perished hopes and mortal sin, 

Reaping what we've sowed. 

We hold our share of this world's pelf, 

And grasp again for more ; 
Our only thoughts are for ourself, 
While hoarding up our store. 



82 The Schoolmaster and Other Poems. 

We grasp the shares of those we loved 

In happy days, gone by ; 
We impoverish them — unmoved 

By e'en a tearful eye. 

But still we're men, good business men — 

That's what the people say — 
But, O, how much we've changed, since when 

We lived our childhood's day. 

Charity then was Love's best friend, 

And happiness was ours ; 
But now our hopes will only end 

In wrecking other powers. 

Our selfish hearts have lost the love 

Of happy childhood's time ; 
We care not where our friends may rove, 

In dark or sunny clime. 

Then have we gained in holy light 

Since we became full grown ? 
Or are we fastly losing sight 

Of lights we first had known ? 



The Schoolmaster and Other Poems. 83 



THE MISSIONARY. 

Far out on the broad Pacific, 

Close to Tahiti's shore, • , 

Was a captain, quite prolific 
About his Pagan lore. 

And every sailor on the deck 

Had lived for years on sea, 
And not a one could see a speck 

Of good in charity. 

Among the crew, a clergyman 

Was going forth alone, 
To try and civilize a land 

Where Pagan stars had shone. 

By the crew he was jeered and mocked 

For his ungallant stand, 
In wandering where the billows rocked, 

To reach a savage land. 

By cannibals to be devoured, 
And it would serve him right ; 

For neither church nor any power 
Should send him out of sight. 

Because he showed a childish heart 

In hitching to a creed ; 
He should not be allowed to start 

To sate the savage greed. 



84 The Schoolmaster and Other Poems. 

For he could only do the same 

As others did before— 
He'd show good faith while on the main, 

But fricassee on shore. 

If he kept out of the soup-bowl 

By practicing his art, 
He'd surely strive to sink his soul 

Behind a sinful heart. 

Impostors never could succeed 

In civilizing men, 
Whose hopes were anchored to a creed 

That never heard of sin. 

The missionaries, every one, 
Who sought those savage wilds, 

Went forth intent on having fun 
With savages beguiled. 

Their lustful passions they display 

Among the native maids ; 
Their wily hearts they throw away, 

To keep a creed delayed. 

And then a creed — the hope of fools — 

How could it help the man 
Whose primal life had known no rules, 

Beyond where it began ? 

He kindly listened to their taunts, 
Nor stooped to tell them why 

He left the home fond memory haunts, 
To wander forth and die 



The Schoolmaster and Other Poems. 85 

Among the natives of the sea, 

In some forsaken land, 
Where ne'er a friendly face he'd see, 

Nor clasp a friendly hand. 

He had a mission to perform 

Among this savage race ; 
He'd bare his breast to every storm 

That struck his chosen place. 

He'd teach the savage right and wrong, 

The principles of Truth, 
They'd join with him in holy song — 

The grand sire and the youth. 

The sailors could not read his mind ; 

They could not rouse his ire ; 
His course was frank and free and kind, 

To every son and sire 

Who tried their best to anger him 

While they were on the sea ; 
But always said, " When you slay sin, 

You'll have respect for me. 

" The cannibals on yonder shore, 
Which I may hope to find, 
Are simply men, and nothing more, 
With instinct for a mind. 

" Those very men before me now, 
Who scoff and jeer at sin, 
Perhaps have often wondered how 
The miracles begin. 



86 The Schoolmaster and Other Poems. 

" But should this ship be cast a wreck 
Upon some lonely shore, 
Then every man upon this deck • 
Would blame eternal power. 

" For stranding him so far away, 
Out in the stormy sea ; 
That very power he doubts to-day. 
Would cause his misery. 

" And if your race should there survive 
Three generations more, 
Men like me they would roast alive 
For coming to their shore. ' 

" They'd eat me, too — you doubt it now— 
But here you will agree, 
If you will wander back to how 
You prayed at mother's knee. 

" That time your simple, childish brain, 
Could think of nothing wrong ; 
Then to her simple music strain 
You joined in sacred song. 

" But now there's naught that you respect 
As rights of God or man ; 
Your mother's prayers you now reject 
As a weak, childish plan. 

" It goes to show how fast the change 
From how our lives began; 
A generation is the range 
To change the life of man. 



The Schoolmaster and Other Poems. 87 

" Then you would not dare to commit 
Such thing as mortal sin, 
But now you scoff and laugh at it, 
And ridicule the men 

" Who tell you just what you were taught 
Beside your mother's knee, 
When every hope in life was fraught 
With Faith and Charity. 

" Now see how much your life is changed 
So tell me if you can, 
If men who fall three times this range 
Would fear to eat a man. 

•' You boast of men that you have killed 
In midnight's howling brawl, 
To gain a conquest always billed 
To grace the midnight ball." 

That very night the setting sun 

Did greet the rising moon, 
But ere the next day had begun, 

There came the wild typhoon. 

It swept a thousand sails from sea 

And terrified the land, 
With broken wrecks cast on the lea 

From the devouring strand. 

Our captain's gallant craft, the Fan, 

Was stranded on the beach 
Of a small isle, where no sane man 

Would ever dare to reach. 



88 The Schoolmaster and Other Poems. 

'Twas seen by captain and his crew, 

Some seven years before, 
When a contrary tempest blew 

Their craft against the shore. 

" The savages on us did fall, 
With greedy appetite ; 
They caught a sailor, stout and tall, 
After a vicious fight. 

" They ate the man before our eyes, 
While we released our craft ; 
So now you see why I surmise 
What the next breeze will waft. 

" Of all the world, this very beach 
Is most to be abhorred ; 
This very night our bones will bleach 
Upon their festal board." 

So spoke the captain, with alarm, 
While viewing a distant hill. 
" I'll climb that hill to see what harm, 
And you keep very still." 

So saying, he crept upon the shore, 

Fearing to stand erect ; 
He crept a half a mile or more, 

To where he could detect 

The movements of the savages, 

If any were around, 
And where were bent their ravages 

On that unhallowed ground 



The Schoolmaster and Other Poems. 89 

He raised his head above the grove 

In such an easy way, 
That they could hardly see it move 

From the beach where they lay. 

Slowly and high his head came out, 

Until he stood upright ; 
Then, waving his hat, with a shout 

He said, " We're safe to-night." 

They sprang at once upon their feet, 

And hastened to their chief, 
To see what pleasure he did meet, 

Which moulded joy from grief. 

He calmly stood upon the mound, 

A smile upon his face ; 
And pointed out what he had found, 

That changed the dreary place. 

A church was built upon the plain, 

The steeple high in view, 
And missionaries had reclaimed 

The land from what he knew. 

The clergyman then had his say, 

His face was beaming bright : 
' There is no savage here to slay 

One of your crew to-night. 

' That distant spire to all proclaims, 
' On earth good will toward men.' 
No man that's cast on these domains 
Will e'er be killed again." 



90 The Schoolmaster and Other Poems. 



WAITING FOR BEN. 



Her childish years had all been spent, 
The time when first we met; 

And blooming maidenhood had lent 
Her charms I can't forget. 

If Beauty ever built a maid 

To captivate the heart, 
Its charms on her were thickly laid 

To demonstrate its art. 

She was its sample of the best 

And purest ever made; 
And Beauty's work was surely blest 

By all who knew the maid. 

She was proposed to every day 
By lovers wooing her then ; 

She deftly turned them all away — 
She was " waiting for Ben." 

We met again in course of time 
When many years were past; 

It pained me very much to find 
Her beauty fading fast. 

The pretty face which led us all 
To cast our hearts her way, 

Was wearing nature's earthy caul, 
By aging toward the clay. 



The Schoolmaster and Other Poems. 91 

Her sparkling eye was just as bright 

As ever it had shone; 
Her happy heart was pure and light, 

Though she was still alone 

So to explain my early spark, 

I quickly did begin — 
And still there came the old remark: 

"lam waiting for Ben." 

Again' we met full forty years, 

From when I saw her first; 
Her brilliant eyes shone bright o'er fears 

Wherein I feared the worst. 

The raven hair of former days 

Was now a snowy white; 
And not a vestige met my gaze 

Wherein I took delight. 
Her shrunken face was yellow mail, 

Her pearly teeth were gone; 
Her ruby lips had withered pale, 

And still she was alone. 

All through those years of toil and care, 

To the approaching end, 
Her heart is always light and fair, 

And still "waiting for Ben." 



92 The Schoolmaster and Other Poems. 



THE RUFFIAN. 



I was a stranger, but the maiden next me 
Was the fairest, the fairest I ever did see; 
Her pleasant, sweet voice, her mild hazel eyes 
Filled me at once with all sorts of surprise. 

I scanned my acquaintance this side of the sea, 
Endeavoring to guess who this maiden could be; 
I knew, in my life, had our eyes ever met, 
Her beautiful features I'd never forget. 

No lover paid court to this beautiful lass, 
So I trusted kind fortune smiled on me at last. 
I longed for a chance to move into the whirl 
Of the dizzying dance with this beautiful girl. 

I anxiously prayed, as I wished for a cause, 
To show what a brilliant young fellow I was, 
That something might rise to give me a start 
To burrow my way right into her heart. 

Right soon came a cause — a poor drunken man 
Commenced by abuse angry passions to fan, 
He was recklessly dressed, his hair was un- 
combed, 
Like a poor farmer's horse that had never been 
groomed. 



The Schoolmaster and Other Poems. 93 

His tongue kept a buzzing to this one and that, 

Till the poor silly fellow got into a spat 

With a lover who deemed his intrusion bad 

grace, 
'Cause he held his best girl right fast in em- 
brace. 

He kissed her and kissed her and wouldn't give 

o'er, 
Till the lover had knocked him down flat on 

the floor. 
The ladies were incensed, the gents showed 

their spunk, 
And ejected the fellow because he was drunk. 

A good chance had come my mind to explain, 
When I saw the poor fellow pitched out in the 

rain; 
So I hemmed and I hawed for a way to begin, 
Then bolted straight out on the wages of sin. . 

So after soliloquy loudly expressed, 
Wherein I admitted and frankly confessed, 
That of all the poor mortals I ever had seen, 
He was the meanest and the vilest of men. 

Then of the maiden who sat next to me 
I ventured to ask who the ruffian might be; 
Her countenance clouded, a hot flush to smother, 
She modestly answered: "The man is my 
brother." 



94 The Schoolmaster and Other Poems. 



OUR CHAUNCEY. 



Our Chauncey is genial, his words of good 

cheer 
Have a home-like tinkle for every ear. 
From lowly to lofty, from first to the last, 
The fortune of Chauncey has always been cast. 

He feasted at banquet and joined in the health 
Of Biddies of blue blood and Drexels of wealth; 
He talked in the parlors and danced in the halls 
And supped with the farmers in blue overalls. 

His prowess as statesman is questioned by none, 
For he knows every nation under the sun; 
And who are its rulers and who are its peers : 
They've been friends of his own for several 
years. 

He knows where they're strong and he knows 

where they're weak, 
And he is the fellow we should have to speak 
For the cause of our state, when the nation's 

dispute 
About north sea fish or seal island bruit. 

Whenever our diplomats find a hard case 
Chauncey is always called into the race; 
There isn't a question where diplomats cavil, 
But Chauncey will surely make out to unravel. 



' The Schoolmaster and Other Poems. 95 

But when he is mentioned for office of state, 
It matters but little if humble or great; 
Then politicians who deem themselves strong 
Will pounce on poor Chauncey with all sorts 
of song. 

About his position in railway disguise, 

And darken his name with the blackest of lies. 

If you should give heed to their stories of 

pelf, 
You'd think him monopoly all by himself. 

He's above the low marts where mankind is 

sold 
To the world's traducers for glittering gold; 
He denounces no caste wherein Freedom is 

blest 
But posesses his own and respects all the rest. 

His prowess as lawyer stands high at the Bar, 
But as a fine speaker he excels by far 
The most renowned linguists, the races among, 
As the ablest user of the English tongue. 

We honor great Webster and sigh for poor 

Clay, 
And condemn our ancestors why did not they 
Exalt those great fellows above all the rest, 
And give us the seeds of the genius that blest 



96 The Schoolmaster and Other Poems. 



The snow capped and loftiest peaks of their 
mind, 

To help us poor mortals to better mankind. 

Had Webster e'er spoke from executive throne, 

His words would have force when our lan- 
guage is gone. 

In others less gifted they placed supreme 

power, 
And we're pulling cockle to this very hour, 
Endeavoring to clear the wheat from the weed 
That we to successors might leave a pure seed. 

But no. We can't do it, for envious man 
Commands more attention than when we 

began; 
He denounces the men we advance for power 
And praises himself as the fittest to tower 

Among us as sample of self made man, 
To educate himself in state if he can. 
Of course he's elected; to Congress he goes 
As poor as a pauper and nobody knows 

How Washington gold makes a fellow like him 

Appear with a headlight — a diamond gem. 

In the west he buys lands, and stocks in the 

east, 
And comes back to tell us he's very much 

pleased 



The Schoolmaster and Other Poems. 97 

With his seat in Congress, and that we will find 

That he never for naught left our work behind. 

The trusts will denounce him with their loud- 
est curse, 

While he makes his campaign with coin from 
their purse. 

But if we should advance our idol at last, 
The very same combines their pilfer would 

cast. 
Right into the marker where voters are sold, 
To buy up supporters with perfidious gold, 

For the base purpose of defeating our cause 
And advancing their own with iron-clad laws.; 
For no one knows better than they who con- 
demn 
Our idols ambition, that all flagrant men 

Who sip the red wine and join in the cry, 
Know little of honor that money can't buy; 
They think that because they get drink for 

their votes, 
The music of state is played from the same 

notes. 

While men of this caste hold the balance of 

power 
Our state must be humble and honor must 

lower. 
But give us the genius whatever his birth 
And our nation will be the greatest on earth. 



98 The Schoolmaster and Other Poems. 



HOMER. 



In this pensive world of ignorance vast, 
There lived once among us far back in the past, 
A poor blind beggar who forced the first light 
Straight into the heart of that terrible night. 

When men by delusion endured the great 

wrong 
That the only rights were the rights of the 

strong— 
That every weak fellow this side of the grave, 
Should bow to a master and serve as a slave, 

He begged for his bread, as he wandered 

around 
To learn where the fairest of flowers could be 

found; 
That he if permitted could find fertile mould 
To plant the fair blossoms in every fold. 

He taught the young athlete who won the first 

prize 
In Olympic contests, that he who would rise 
Above his surroundings in future must be 
A warrior of mind, with intellect free. 



The Schoolmaster and Other Poems, 99 



That to produce muscle was part of God's 

plan, 
The brain should be active in every man. 
For in the dim distance the future did hold 
The kingdoms of earth for the wise and the 

bold. 



His advice, though the best, found no place a 

mark 
Till Liberty's temples rose up from the dark; 
His sayings were repeated, his parchments were 

read; 
The minds of the students were consciously 

spread. 

He set folks to thinking as part of his plan, 
And he forced ideas right into the man. 
'Twas all that was needed; the mind did the 

rest; 
Ere long, lusty mammon was sorely distressed. 

When mammon sought succor his power to 

maintain, 
It mattered but little how many were slain; 
His trouble to get it was merely to ask, 
Ere the poor blind beggar accomplished his 

task. 



100 The Schoolmaster and Other Poems. 



But after the story he gave to the world, 

The claims of great mammon were instantly 

hurled 
Straight back to the claimant with musical 

ring, 
That muscle is conquered and reason is king. 

For had not his parchments been left to man- 
kind, 
Our intellects still would be cycles behind. 
Though he labored for us, our ancestors old, 
Beheld the poor fellow sleep out in the cold. 

'Tis true of mankind from the first up till now, 
That genius must always wear thorns on the 

brow. 
The poor friendless fellow did never know joy 
For e'en the creation of Helen of Troy. 

The beggar of Chios at last found repose, 

In that narrow walled chamber where every 

one goes; 
When the spirit takes flight and leaves the poor 

clay, 
To be coffined and mourned and buried away. 



The Schoolmaster and Other Po*ms. 101 



But as soon as the form is under the mould, 
Then envious mammon the truth will unfold; 
'Twill sneak off the surface that covers his 

bones, 
And weep and caress it in tenderest tones. 

'Tis then' we poor mortals show grief for the 

past, 
And praise what we censured from first to the 

last; 
Then we see the great light which shed its 

bright rays, 
To illurnine the path of our future days. 

Among the great living is many a man, 
Whom we scourge to keep out his gift if we 

can: 
For low forehead envy does always lurk round, 
The briars and brambles where genius is found. 



102 The Schoolmaster and Other Poems. 



THE RAINDROP. 



The tiny raindrop in the spray is such a funny 

thing, 
If we could only give it life, and trace it from 

the spring; 
It is an ardent worker and though tired, it 

never sleeps, 
But we'll forgive it always for the company it 

keeps. 

The little drop which gems the fern may deck 
the briny wave, 

Or form the tear which fondly jewels the blos- 
som on our grave; 

It forms the purest lily white this world ever 
has seen, 

As new blown snow across the fields to cover 
up the green. 

It foams beneath the cataract, it surges in the 

rill; 
Its geyser spray shoots heavenward, it trickles 

down the hill; 
It builds the rainbow in the sky and circles 

round the sun; 
It soothes the parching lips of thirst and cools 
the burning tongue. 



The Schoolmaster and Other Poems. 103 



It makes up the sweat of labor from which 
vagrants recoil, 

And salted well it trickles down the honest 
face of toil; 

It may change its earthy crystal and join the 
hazy clouds, 

That gather in the firmament and wear celes- 
tial shrouds. 

When the tempest blows most fiercely, it 
sprays before the gale; 

When the upper clouds are frozen, it beats the 
earth as hail; 

It makes the mist of morning which flies be- 
fore the breeze, 

And the murky fog so dang'rous in our nar- 
row crowded seas. 

It may fill the dimpled cheeks of the playful 

happy boy, 
And coursing, trickle from the eyes in pearly 

jewels of joy ; 
It may, perhaps, create a force of concentrated 

power, 
And drive the furious engine a hundred miles 

an hour. 

The loaf of bread — the staff of life — is laden 

with this pearl ; 
So is the pap that nourishes the little boy or 

girl; 
The onion, too, contains the drop which makes 

the tears to start, 
Without compunction in the mind or sorrow 

in the heart. 



104 The Schoolmaster and Other Poems. 



It was with fermented sugar when angry 

passions rose, 
Which filled the place with cries for " Help ! " 

and murder's brutal blows ; 
It formed a foam upon the lips when angry 

words were said, 
And placid tears above the bier when wept 

above the dead. 

It buoys the tiny boats of life while coursing 
through our veins, 

And helps to turn out gems of thought, while 
coursing through our brains. 

When pain contracts the torn flesh from bat- 
tle's foremost strife, 

Kind nature kindly scabs it o'er to help to save 
our life. 

But life can't last unless the blood will course 
on as before, 

And help to carry nourishment to bridge our 
troubles o'er ; 

The blood can't flow, for near the wound the 
channels are not free, 

Till the little drop of water leads on its com- 
pany. 

Down in the earth in hidden springs — a thou- 
sand feet below, 

The little drop pursues its work, in constant 
steady flow ; 

The oak tree draws it from the mould up 
through its trunk to run, 

Where, in its gentle, trembling leaves, it is 
turned toward the sun. 



The Schoolmaster and Other Poems. 105 



It takes the poison from the air which animals 

consume, 
And purifies it in the plant as nature's richest 

boon ; 
It courses through the veins of oak and builds 

up every part, 
With poisons which would life destroy, if sent 

by throbbing heart. 

In its m^ny different forms it serves at every 
post, 

In the air and in the ocean, never a part is lost; 

Whenever the little drop of rain assumes celes- 
tial glow, 

It leaves all its earthly matter to moulder here 
below. 

Could we trace all other atoms of which this 
earth is made, 

We'd find it true of all of them when life be- 
comes a shade ; 

The life may wander far away, new changes to 
enfold, 

The earthy matter stays behind to join the 
common mould. 

What's true of every atom, is true, of course, 

of all, 
The spirit of man included, must answer 

nature's call ; 
When life's dear pleasures all are wrought and 

we are called to go, 
A little water in the throat is the last of life we 

know. 



106 The Schoolmaster and Other Poems. 



A STATUE. 



; That pedestal supports, my son, 
The statue of our Washington. 
His, my boy, is the greatest name 
In this world's annals known to fame. 
He won our freedom when 'twas thought 
His wretched soldiers could do naught 
Against such men as Britain sent 
To man her mighty armament. 
While he was slow, the wiles he knew 
Of border warfare, and 'tis true 
That ne'er a move he made in strife, 
But bore rich fruits in after life. 
He would retreat and seldom fight, 
But now we see where he was right. 
His blows when struck were hard to face, 
And even Britons found the place 
Where he arrayed his yeoman band — 
The hardest spot in all the land. 
When war was o'er he quietly spurned 
A kingly crown and quickly turned 
Soldiers' laurels to gems of peace, 
By advocating a release 
From all the powers in foreign cause, 
In his advice on neutral laws. 



The Schoolmaster and Other Poems. 107 

He clearly saw where danger lay 

When he advised us to obey 

His last request in his farewell : 

To never barter, give or sell 

The Freedom we so dearly bought 

For foreign praise that stands for naught." 



i08 The Schoolmaster and Other Poems. 



A LEADER. 



Washington's death wrung from the heart 

Tears that never an eye could start, 

Among the men who stood by him 

In strifes labyrinth dark and dim; 

Even his foes (for he had few) 

Had their half closed eyes dimmed with dew, 

For well they knew, as well as all 

When soldiers answered trumpet call, 

A leader, true and staunch and brave 

To win achievements they should have. 



The quarter post was scarcely past 
When Mars sounded the trumpet blast; 
Our heroes came from home and farm 
To sooth Old Glory in alarm. 
At first of course defeat they met 
A leader brave they had to get. 
"Tippecanoe" was in the field, 
And victories adorned his shield. 
With great delight we hailed our chief 
And firmly fixed a fond belief 
That in the future he would stand 
The greatest man in all the land. 
Every paper conveyed a story 
Of added laurels to his glory. 



The Schoolmaster and Other Poems. 109 

Fut in the South a new star rose 
Which dimmed our heroes with its glows — 
Old Andrew Jackson, known to all 
As " Old Hickory," lank and tall. 
He proved himself beyond a doubt 
The country's pride in every bout, 
For down south where the river bends, 
The sweeping torrent fury lends 
To lave the hill and flood the plain 
When swelled to fury by the rain 
Which falls far north in every spring, 
Old Andrew's trumpet call did ring- 
To call to arms our soldiers true — 
Our South'ren sons. 'Tis well they knew 
Where Jackson's rifles held the ground. 
Old Glory never would come down. 



Another pause, then civil strife 
Called again for the heroes life. 
A million men at once did come, 
And ne'er since Time had first begun 
Was such a conflict waged by men, 
To kill or keep a nation's sin. 
Leaders rose from the ranks so fast 
That West Point's power was felt at last; 
And leaders, too, who rivalled fast 
The greatest leaders of the past. 
The Grecian captain's highest flight 
Was dimmed by Grant's heroic fight. 



110 The Schoolmaster and Other Poems, 

In mountain breeze above the clouds, 

Where cannon's smoke created shrouds 

Of sulph'rous vapor for the vale, 

Which darkly rolled before the gale; 

Where stoutly stood the braves of Bragg 

Defending every peak and crag. 

Proud Caesar's legions ne'er did stand 

Firm as Lee's on the Rapidan. 

Sherman's cohorts advanced a way, 

To conquer foes without delay; 

And with but little loss of life, 

For thought was first in every strife. 

Old " Pap " Thomas would always stand 

Till victory was in his hand. 

The critics often thought him slow, 

But "Pap " himself was sure to know 

The safest chance where he was right. 

The critic's pen could win no fight, 

With reason lost and war begun, 

The best pen is a loaded gun. 

And earth has ne'er produced a man 

The peer of our Phil Sheridan. 

His eagle eye could always see 

To make defeat a victory. 

Through four long years of awful strife, 

Phil never failed to risk his life 

Mid cannon shot and bursting shell, 

Where many gallant heroes fell. 

His flag was in the thickest fight; 

And foes could never muster might 



The Schoolmaster and Other Poems, 111 

Powerful enough to make him beat 

What every soldier knows — retreat. 

The greatest soldiers of the past 

Had somewhere on their 'scutcheons cast, 

A mark to show where they had lost 

A battle at some border post. 

But Phil got through, how e'er 'twas done, 

The greatest and the only one, 

Whose laurel trimmed with jeweled stars, 

Hangs highest on the brow of Mars. 

Others, too, we recall with pride, 

Are Logan, Hancock, and Burnside, 

But why draw out, ere we name all, 

Every name on the roll we'd call. 



Now, for leaders we have no fear; 
West Point gives hundreds every year. 
Our army leaders are to-day 
Heroes tried from the blue and gray. 
And every man in North and South 
Will face the belching cannon's mouth 
Without delay and without fear, 
When he sees danger drawing near. 



112 The Schoolmaster and Other Poems. 



THE TAPERS. 



The greatest captain of an age 

Is a bright name on history's page. 

He is the idle of his time, 

Beyond his home in every clime 

Where Mars arrays the men of war, 

To right the wrongs of misused power; 

His name is loved by every one, 

Regardless of the place he's from. 

This page to-day we deftly turn 

To where our heroes' tapers burn; 

And watch the lights as they flit past 

The transom where our gaze is cast. 

We know the tapers every one, 

And cheer them, too, as they come on; 

The heroes' tapers do not show 

All lights alike in brilliant glow; 

For some less bright than others are 

Just like the names they're standing for. 

Our navy's tapers passing by, 

Have always caused a jealous eye 

To frown upon their brilliant light, 

'Cause every one shines full and bright; 



The Schoolmaster and Other Poems. 113 

But still as brightly as they burned, 

Some brilliant lights were somewhat turned 

To shed their flames much lower down 

Than Trafalgar's effulgent one, 

Which flashes out above the rest, 

As if its wick was lately dressed. 

The brightest light does often sit, 

Upon the taper latest lit; 

It flickers first until it finds 

The height at which its blaze must shine; 

So give it time to flicker down, 

Until its level it has found. 

When the flitting glare leaves the light, 

Then it has found its proper height; 

But Nelson's light is surely one 

That never will shine lower down; 

The flame e'en now seems not so tar, 

Since it rose up at Trafalgar. 

We watch the list of tapers through, 

Until the last is flashed in view; 

Its flame is bright and calm and high, 

And burns like Nelson's flashing by; 

The brilliant flame is strange to all; 

Ne'er before has it joined the call 

Of flaming tapers in review, 

A stranger here ! Tis something new, 

To join the list without a song, 

To tell the people where its from. 

We glance above the latest flame, 

And trv to read the hero's name. 



114 The Schoolmaster and Other Poems. 

In living light the letters burn 
Which make the name we want to learn. 
Our dazzled eyes succeed at last, 
In making out the letters cast 
Above the tapers brilliant glow, 
Where shines the name we want to know- 
It's a veteran, scarred and gray, 
The hero of Manila Bay. 



The Schoolmaster and Other Poems. 115 



LITTLE NELLIE 



Tucked in upon her low pallet, 

In agony she lay, 
And called her weeping mamma, 

To hear what she would say. 

" I know, my dear mamma," she said, 
"That you've been sorely tried, 
And well remember how you wept 
When brother Charlie died 

" Tis long you've grieved and sorrowed, 
But this will be your last, 
For ere to-morrow's sun is set 
I'll be among the past. 

" You must not give up to sorrow, 
Nor weep above my grave, 
But always think of Jesus and 
The promise that he gave. 

" If you only knew my suffering, 
You would not shed a tear, 
But gladly welcome Angel Death 
To take me out of here. 

" When I wear the wings of heaven, 
And fly from star to star, 
I'll often wander back to earth 
To witness how you are. 



116 The Schoolmaster and Other Poems. 

" I'll often be close to you when 
You think me far away; 
Perhaps I'll be beside you when 
You weep above my clay. 

" Although you cannot see me, you 

Must always think me near, 

For I'll leave the joys of heaven 

To comfort you down here. 

" And when at last the time will come 
That you be summoned too, 
Myself and brother Charlie will 
Come gladly after you. 

" But till that time whate'er befalls, 
Be ever strong and brave, 
And always think of Jesus and 
The promise that he gave." 



The Schoolmaster and Other Poems. 117 



THE OLD FORT, 



I. 

Long ago down on the Lake front, 

Where Chicago stands to-day, 
Old Fort Dearborn's hoary turrets 

Reared aloft their heads of grey. 
Not the heads of rock and granite, 

Which compose the battlement; 
Nor the modern inlaid earthwork, 

Which our cannon cannot dint. 
The genius of geometry 

Was to Indian wars unknown; 
His savage mind had never learned 

How to batter down the stone. 
But the bark roofs of the settlers 

Were the turrets old and grey; 
And the cross above the mission 

Was the banner of that day. 
Jn the mission house on Sundays 

Prayed the red man with the white 
To the Universal Ruler 

For the same directftig light. 
They were taught by priest and preacher, 

What was right and what was wrong; 
They learned the Sunday canticles 

And joined the whites in holy song. 



118 The Schoolmaster and Other Poems. 

The fields of maize fair were growing 

As the products of their toil; 
They travailed on unitedly, 

Reclaiming the virgin soil. 
The red man's hope seemed come at last 

To ransom his ruined name 
From mankind's ancient chronicles 

Who had sunk it deep in shame. 



A fallen chief — old Watusset, 

Lived with whites since he was young; 
He had learned their books and language, 

And also the boyish tongue. 
But among the old traditions 

Of the heroes of the tribes, 
Was one that the fallen sachem 

Had traded his rights for bribes. 
Like an old family fixture, 

He was held in high esteem 
By young and old of the mission, 

For the service he had seen 
Among the early pioneers 

To the uncivilized West, 
Who left their homes and relatives 

And families richly blest, 
To dearly earn their existence 

In the mission near the lake — 
To trim the primeval forest, 

And the virgin soil to break. 



The Schoolmaster and Other Poems. 119 

Old Watusset served a household 

In the way an old man can, 
Doing the light work for the women 

Like a good and faithful man. 
Every day he rocked the cradle 

Of his mentor's only child, 
Born in their low log cabin, 

In that fortress bleak and wild. 
Years passed on with old Watusset 

'Till the child became a maid 
Who respected the old Indian, 

For the hosts he had arrayed 
In defending from invaders 

The land where his fathers lay. 
He told her the warlike stories 

Of the tribes of early days, 
Until her early history 

Of all the country around, 
Was laden with the traditions 

Which with savages are found. 
This man the family trusted 

In many different ways, 
Until they formed the belief 

That words of the highest praise 
Could not exalt this fallen chief 

Above his virtuous ways. 
The maid had every confidence 

In this man of many years; 
She told him the difficulties 

Which had caused her childish tears. 



120 The Schoolmaster and Other Poems. 

She regarded his instruction 
As the wisdom of a sage, 

Bubbling over with prophesies 
Too rich for history's page. 



III. 



But growing crops could not persuade 

That aboriginal man, 
From following the winding paths 

Which through the wild forest ran. 
A home to him was the wigwam 

In that shady forest dell, 
Among the beech and poplar trees 

Where his father's foemen fell. 
His impatient heart responded 

To the legends of the fights, 
Where his forefathers contended 

For the soil against the whites. 
How they lived and how they battled,— 

How they died upon the plain, 
Striving for emancipation 

From the white man's iron reign. 
How a later generation 

Of those early vanquished sires, 
Sought comfort in the domiciles 

Of their father's foemen's fires. 
These thoughts were not original 

With the Indian of that day. 
In the forests were the teachers 

In their treacherous array, 



The Schoolmaster and Other Poems. 121 

Planning for the early downfall 

Of the unprotected fort, 
Joining with the subdued savage, 

Practicing his early sport, 
Leading him away from culture, 

From his bark-roof in the fort ; 
Showing him the life of thralldom 

He had taken for his sport. 
The passive life of the white man — 

Drudgery his chosen lot. 
From day to day and year to year 

He is working round his cot. 



IV. 
Soon the war-blast loudly sounded — 

Foreign foes were close at hand ; 
The mission to a fort was formed 

To repulse the coming band. 
A few soldiers from the army 

Joined those early settlers there, 
Hoping to defend the fortress 

By their strict, untiring care. 
The small crops were early garnered, 

In the fort were stored away, 
To protect against the famine 

Which accompanies the fray. 
In this work the red man labored, 

'Neath the scorching summer sun, 
Side by side with his white neighbor, 

Until all the work was done. 



122 The Schoolmaster and Other Poems. 

To the south the dread Tecumseh 

Made his way the year before — • 
The agent of confederates 

Who had conned his troubles o'er 
Hoping to arouse his passion 

O'er his treatment by the whites, 
Saying that the Indian people 

Never would have equal rights. 
In the south he formed a union 

Of the southern Indian tribes, 
Saying the government's promises 

Were the cheapest kind of bribes. 
His words had force with the Indians, 

Who willingly donned their paint, 
And retired from homes and harvests 

To their customs old and quaint. 
From the fort they all departed 

In the silence of the night, 
And joined the foe in the forest, 

To assist him in the fight. 



V. 
On the fifteenth day of August, 

More than eighty years ago, 
Fort Dearborn had to surrender 

To that compromising foe, 
Who compromised with the red man, 

That his ally he should be, 
In gaining numerous battles 

From his father's enemy. 



The Schoolmaster and Other Poems. 123 

When the fort capitulated, 

The children, women and men, 
Asked protection from the victor 

'Gainst the savage Indian fiend. 
Protection was quickly promised, 

To those who laid down their arms. 
Soon the dreadful Indian warwhoop 

Ruffled their well ground alarms. 
No protection there was offered 

To man, woman, maid or child, 
While the cruel Indian savage, 

Every sacred right defiled. 
Men were tortured on the curbstones; 

Maids were ravished in the streets; 
Babes were pinioned to their mothers. 

Or else strangled at their feet; 
Children were thrown from bayonets 

To be caught on other spears, 
By the practiced Indian devils 

Who had lived with them for years. 
Oh ! but could the English mothers 

See the work their sons had done, 
Of rope, death, and desolation, 

To their kindred, everyone, 
By making the savage Indian 

His accomplice in the fight; 
Then leave him to take and pilfer 

Lives and homes of every white. 
'Twould be difficult for Britain, 

In the future years to come, 
To muster into her service 

The erudite English son. 



124 The Schoolmaster and Other Poems. 



VI. 

When the dread warwhoop was sounded, 

'Twas the warning knell of death, 
To those living in the fortress, 

"That they'd drawn their latest breath," 
The maiden saw her own mamma 

Led captive through the town, 
And saw her fiendish torturers 

Dancing and whooping around 
The stake where she was to perish, 

As others had done before. 
She saw the cruel indignities 

Her patient mamma bore, 
Till she had fallen exhausted, 

From the pains of knife and fire, 
In the damp slow burning fagots, 

Which formed her funeral pyre. 
She quickly fled to her father, 

Protection hoping to gain, 
Only to find that his sad lot, 

Was to be the first one slain. 
Then she sought the old Watusset 

The friend of her family, 
And begged him to save her life 

From that awful butchery. 
In his grim way smiled the Indian, 

And brandished his tomahawk 
Before his ghastly painted race, 

Before he commenced to talk; 



The Schoolmaster and Other Poems. 125 

Of course he meant to save her life 

From the world and'friends, he said, 
Then, striking, cleft her through the brain 

And left her among the dead. 
An allied soldier saw the deed 

And said, " Was she not your friend! 
How could you then in such a case 

Enjoy her untimely end ?" 
But the* chief whose face was kindled 

By the bloody work he'd done, 
Raised up the gory tomahawk 

And pointed it toward the sun 
" He is the friend of every one 

Who lives in the wood and plain, 
He gives us all both warmth and light, 

And he drenches us with rain; 
He also disturbs our reason 

By his awful summer heat, 
And then again he will refuse 

Frigid winter back tc beat; 
He kills us so. Yet he's our friend, 

For he helps us every hour. 
Now, he knows why he acts this way. 

More than any earthly power. 
It takes courage to kill a friend, 

Any coward can kill a foe ; 
And I have proved to the world 

What my people want to know.'* 



126 The Schoolmaster and Other Poems. 

THE SONG BIRD. 

The song bird charms the wood and vale 

With his warblings fair and free ; 
He's charmed alike with breeze and gale, 

And his songs o'erflow with glee. 

The torrents sweep the mountain side ; 

The hurricanes sweep the plain ; 
And clouds the smiling sun may hide 

Till they drench the earth with rain. 

All through the songster flutters round, 

Not unlike a frightened child ; 
The woods have changed his charming sound 

For the tempest fierce and wild. 

When he locates the haunts of men, 

He will always linger near, 
Until the sun shines out again, 

When he sings his songs of cheer. 

His nest perhaps may suffer some 

From the tempest's raging blast ; 
But just as soon as welcome sun 

Divides the clouds overcast, 

He quickly to his nest repairs, 

And is singing all the time ; 
Quite happy o'er his little cares 

Which are rocked by soothing winds. 

He has no time for dark despair, 

Nor to complain about his fate ; 
But always will kind nature share 

In joyous strains, soon and late. 



The Schoolmaster and Other Poems. 127 



THE GREATEST MAN. 

What man is greatest among us here, 

Where large and small their tasks pursue ? 
Each in separate course and sphere 

Is laboring for something new. 
Something new is what is wanted, 

Everywhere its praise is chanted. 
So we all strive to be the first 

To advocate a novel scheme, 
To grasp the minds for best or worst 

Of those who follow our regime. 
If best our plan must be devised, 
If worst 'tis easily revised. 

So if our plans successful be 

In grasping followers by scores, 
Our greatness and our destiny 

Depend upon our use of power. 
That it must never be abused 

But be liberally diffused 
Among the ones we want the most, 

(Who always are outside the fold ) 
And never think upon the cost 

Or what is paid in treasured gold 
For getting them to join our plan 
In building up the greatest man. 



128 The Schoolmaster and Other Poems. 

No man is great wheree'er he be — 

No matter what he does for man, 
Unless those men will all agree 

It's wisdom to adopt his plan, 
And place him high above the rest 

With which this world is richly blest. 
His products then are greeted fast 

By those who understand his way; 
His conquests, too, are proudly passed 

By friends who join him every day. 
So far he's working for the state, 
His works are free — therefore he's great. 

When he begins to charge a fee 

For the great products of his brain, 
That he may build a dynasty 

To leave to man his future train, 
His greatness fades like morning mist 

Before some sun far down the list. 
For mankind makes its greatest man 

With praise or blame, which e'er it be; 
He is greatest who works for man 

And never charges any fee. 
He who tries to better mankind 
Is building up the future's mind. 



The Schoolmaster and Other Poems. 129 



UNCLE SAM. 



Uncle Sam has a grey beard, 
His hair is long and white; 

And no power has ever heard 
Of him doing aught but right. 

By Uncle Sam, years ago, 
Was built a stately arch; 

Meant to all outsiders show 
Where his defenders march. 

Equal Rights to all mankind 
Are the foundation stones; 

Ancient customs cast behind 
Ring out his cymbal tones. 

Sacred Freedom is the next 
Marble he mortised down, 

Hoping that sectional texts 
Would never show their frown. 

Justice rests below the key, 
And makes the arches' curves; 

'Twill fall at the first degree 
That from its course it swerves. 

Liberty is the key stone 
Of Uncle Samuel's arch, 

Where unsheltered man alone 
Can all times safely march. 



130 The Schoolmaster and Other Poems. 



DESTINY. 



What is the course of heaven's blest 
While struggling on this mundane sphere, 

Where weary souls can never rest, 
To shed the long collected tear? 

From year to year they onward toil, 
And ne'er forget to kneel and pray 

To the great Father of us all 
To guide their actions every day. 

They deal just with their fellow men, 
According to the laws of God; 

They abhor always the world's sin 
And the path which satan has trod. 

But will they triumph over death 
Amd leave the slab to mark the clay, 

When soul and motion life and breath 
Will be transported far away ? 

Where no atonement and no sin 
Will ever strike their sacred ears; 

Where all the faithful women and men 
Will live and love for future years. 



The Schoolmaster and Other Poems. 131 



THE TREASURER. 



If ever I wander to heaven — 
Which I earnestly hope that I will— 

I'd like to see Ingersoll given 
The care of the heavenly till. 

With money, the price of his labor, 
While leading his tirade on hell, 

He never allowed a poor neighbor 
His coat for a supper to sell, 

But has always to charity given; 

He's well known at the homes of the poor; 
So if he's till keeper in heaven, 

We'll never be sent from his door. 



132 The Schoolmaster and Other Poems. 



NARROW MINDS. 

Obstinacy, combined with pride, 
Oft plunges nations into war; 

But when these failings are allied 
With inborn weakness to abhor 

The habits and beliefs of those 

Whose sacred customs we oppose, 

We trip them every step they take, 
Endeavoring to make them fall; 

And just because opinion's sake 
Is laboring to keep them small, 

They can not grow while we are near; 

Our persecution is severe. 

Of liberty we loudly boast, 

And say that Freedom is our child, 
And clamor for an armored host 

To down the customs we reviled. 
For practicing what we oppose 
Is done by none but bitter foes. 

For all that Freedom means to us, 
And what we hope it means to all, 

Is to protect us. We are just, 
In trying to cause the early fall 

Of these with whom we disagree 

In Faith and Hope and Charity. 



The Schoolmaster and Other Poems. 133 



While envy reasons in this way 

To elevate itself above 
The enemies it hopes to slay, 

By keeping ever on the move 
Behind the heels of those opposed, 
Like a whipped cur afraid of blows, 

We cannot hope to ever be 
The greatest people on the earth. 

For not until the mind is free 
Has Freedom gained what it is worth. 

We must respect the good in all 

Our citizens the great and small. 



134 The Schoolmaster and Other Poems. 



INGRATITUDE. 



Jean Jacques of the past, 
In a dungeon was cast, 

For advising the poor how to live. 
And Schiller fled fast 
From laws that were passed, 

Condemning the writings he'd give. 

The gifted Voltaire 
Was cast in despair 

By the nation he hoped to defend ; 
He sought mountain air 
in Switzerland fair, 

Where his life could flow on to the end. 

Mirabeau was thrown 
In a dungeon of stone 

Which the peasantry called the Bastile, 
To make him bemoan 
The seeds he had sown 

In defending the commonweal. 

Our own Robert Morris 
Got everything for us 

That honor and money could get, 
But Congress, dolorous, 
For what he did for us 

Saw him cast into prison for debt. 



The Schoolmaster and Other Poems. 135 

The great Berenger 
In prison did lay 

For pictures his fancy portrayed, 
M. Zola to-day 
In prison must stay 

For the converts his genius has made. 

But reason grows best 
When the mind is at rest 

From the tumult and strife of the hour; 
And fancy is dressed 
To relieve the oppressed 

From the thralldom of tyranny's power. 



135 The Schoolmaster and Other Poems. 



OUR CONGRESS. 



" Our Liliputian Congress" — What a name 

To apply to a reminiscence of fame ! 

'Twas not so far back since great Webster's 

debates 
Gave classics to schools and glory to the 

states; 
He was rivalled for power by the famous Clay; 
And John C. Calhoun had something to say; 
And Old Rufus Choate— the pride of the Bar — 
Faced Corwin's artillery like a brave tar. 
Stephen A Douglass— the big " Little Giant," 
As Lincoln's opponent was never suppliant. 
And Prentice — Proud Bacchus — from the sunny 

South 
Silenced all speakers when he opened his 

mouth; 
For big words and phrases were ready to flow 
As wit, logic, and wisdom, when he let them go. 

But what is there now to replace the great 

past? 
There's nothing done now which is destined to 

last. 
Our statesmen's opinions are now very few 
And come from such privates as Chauncey 

Depew. 



The Schoolmaster and Other Poems. 137 

When foul legislation the tax-payers will rob, 

We ask for a remedy of " Pagan Bob;" 

And if there's an act we want cast in the shade, 

We request Bourke Cockran to lead the tirade. 

On finance we listen to W. J. Bryan, 

And doubt his logic, but he'll succeed in time. 

When people are suffering from tyranny's 
ills, 

We enjoy an oration from L. L. Mills. 

When the treasury's gold has largely been spilt, 

We advise with Rockafeller or Vanderbilt; 

Those men are rich; they know how to get 
gold, 

But we can't use them till our pockets are cold. 

When our state's been insulted by foreign 
power, 

Henry Watterson then is our stately tower. 

Should the men we have named join Congress 
to-day, 

Prosperity would dawn without much delay; 

And hundreds of others who well might be 
named, 

Could free our fair maiden, who now is en- 
chained. 

So give us the statesmen, whoever they be, 

To call up our far flown prosperity. 



138 The Schoolmaster and Other Poems. 



SHORT ACQUAINTANCE. 



As Tonor sat musing o'er cases recalled, 
By presiding judges o'er sessions of court, 

His fingers slipped free o'er a pate growing bald, 
As he tipped back his chair to indulge in his 
sport. 

He glancingly winked at his partner wise, 
And he shifted his* cud to the other jaw; 

Then twitching his lips he rolled up his eyes, 
And talked of a ludicrous scene that he saw, 

About Adamsen, out on a tandem wheel, 
With a maid whom he met just three days 
before; 
He could imagine how that fellow would feel, 
If he knew that the scene was now being 
talked o'er. 

'Twas in the South Park, where the Midway 
Plaisance, 
Attracted the crowds at the late World's 
Fair, 
By teaching our natives a civilized dance, 
Not practiced by patrons of the round or 
square. 



The Schoolmaster and Other Poems, 139 

As the tandem passed by the beautiful green, 

Where Cairo's Pavilion had formerly stood, 

She remarked that the happiest days she had 

seen, 

Were spent wriggling in dance 'neath an 

Egyptian hood. 

u In that very spot, where that beautiful tree, 
Now spreads it's broad branches and sighs 
with the breeze, 

The Egyptians and Turks, the Kaffirs and me 
Hobnobbed the hoboes of highest degrees." 

Poor John looked amazed when he saw what 
he had, 
Mistaken for a beautiful summer queen; 
He bore on the pedals as if going mad, 
As he pedaled and pedaled away from the 
scene. 



140 The Schoolmaster and Other Poems. 



COMPLAINT. 



Critics complain about Lowell's fame, 
That he never had done his best; 

That his pieces, always light and tame, 
Were written his active mind to rest. 

Of Lytton they made the same complaint; 

He wrote his fancy to please his mind. 
In both, the critics will darkly paint 

The wondrous genius that lay behind. 

They complain that both were men of wealth, 
And never obliged to write for gain; 

Both were robust in physique and health, 
And never had known starvation's pain. 

Then critics must be lavishly paid 
For their critiques on the poet's art; 

But let not their reason be delayed 
By thinking tlje poet gets a part. 

The poet now, like Homer of yore, 
While he's putting his fancy in rhyme, 

Must beg for his bread from door to door 
Like the vagrants of every clime. 



The Schoolmaster and Other Poems. 141 



A LAWYER. 



On the back of a lawyers card 
I wrote these original lines : 

" Your work is never very hard — 
You fatten up on culprits crimes. 

Yet a necessity you are, 

In helping us to keep the peace; 
You pant and wrangle at the bar, 

In trying to "send up," or release. 

You advocate the vilest act 

That man commits against the state; 
You use your fertile brain and tact 

The ends of justice to belate. 

You clamor loud against a wrong, 
Unless employed to prove it right; 

And then you'll face the angry throng 
To prove that darkness is the light. 



142 The Schoolmaster and Other Poems. 

A SEA FIGHT. 

A fight between two ships of war 

Sends thunders o'er the sea afar ; 

It far exceeds the thunder's roar, 

Reverberating on the shore. 

The fire and smoke which fills the air 

Obscures the view we'd like to share ; 

But on the deck where heroes stand 

As calm and cool as on the land, 

The plowman cultivates his corn, 

Or schoolboys greet the rosy morn. 

The glass is raised to catch a view 

Of the opposing vessel's crew; 

And stern is given the command 

For the marines to closely stand 

Beside their guns with greatest care, 

Direct their aim where foemen are. 

The foemen too must do the same, 

For their last shell has shown good aim. 

It burst beneath the captain's feet, 

And quite upset our sailors' mete 

About the foemen's distant shells 

Which burst out where the sea nymph dwells. 

But this one struck the ship amain, 

And of our sailors, four were slain ; 

But "Fighting Bob" stood in the tower, 

While shot and shell did closely pour, 

Directing gunners where to shoot 

So as to reap the richest fruit. 

Straight at his foe his steel is cast, 

Until their white flag climbs the mast. 



The Schoolmaster and Other Poems. 143 



A SLAVE 



A slave is one who crouches down 
Before a master's cruel hand ; 

He cannot call his life his own, 
But waits abjectly the command. 

A slave is one who drinks too free 
The red wine and the juice of corn, 

Until he prates as foolishly 
As at the time when he was born. 

A slave is one to fashion set, 

Who starves himself to keep in style, 
Whose every course in life is fret 

With festoons of deceit's defile. 

A slave is one, though high in power, 
Who's guided by another's mind ; 

Just like an antiquated tower 
Which shows the battlements behind. 

A slave is one whose wealth is vast, 
Yet fears to trust his countrymen, 

Lest some unseen foeman should cast 
His salver down for vulgar kin. 



144 The Schoolmaster and Other P^ems. 



LAUGHTER. 



The morning scene was fresh and fair, 
And clouds the sun was after; 

The woodlands echoed everywhere 
With peals of boyish laughter. 

The scene was pleasant as could be 
For bodies tired and weary, 

Yet every eye could plainly see 
Expressions dark and dreary. 

Yet every peal from boyish lips 
Dispelled a scowl from others, 

For happiness forever ships 
Contagion to its brothers. 

The same of sorrow may be said, 

Where it preponders ever; 
It always lingers round the dead, 

But with the happy — never. 

So let the boy laugh loud and free 

Wherever he may wander, 
He'll help to fill the world with glee 

And expel sorrow yonder. 



The Schoolmaster and Other Poems. 145 



GLADSTONE. 



Every century since time began, 
Left earth the fame of a clever man. 
Each generation leaves us a mark — 
A man whose fame has shone like a spark 
Of radiant light on time's vast shore, 
Showing the rocks where were wrecked before 
The traders' craft, while searching for spoil, 
Among the ruins of foemen's toil. 

The century's mark is a mountain peak 
Which covers the vale and desert bleak 
With soil from its slopes cast down in floods 
To nourish the plain, the mead and woods. 
It gives mankind what the future holds 
Of garnered stores more needed than gold. 

A century mark indeed was he 

Whom now we mourn, though across the sea, 

His life was spent to better his race 

And give all mankind a higher place 

In the world's sanctum. He welcomed all 

In their upward flight. The great and small 

Stepped aside and allowed him to lead 

Three generations in rapid speed, 

Away from the dark which dimmed the eyes 

Of our first parents in Paradise. 



146 The Schoolmaster and Other Poems. 

He was great living. He is greater dead. 

Forever will live the words he said. 

far in the future, when great names dim, 

He'll shine as immortality's gem. 

But he'li be alone among those dead, 

In the Abbey vaults, whose narrow beds, 

Confine largely generation marks, 

Whose lights were dimmed by some later 

sparks. 
But give him, O give him company. 
Byron and Shakspeare with him should be. 



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